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/;/ Tejlimony of long Friendjhip and Jincere 


this wo7^k is dedicated by 

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|g)©l!^S?13^ HE main purpofe of the enfulng colled:ion 
iJAisK j^ ^^ lliew, in their moft genuine flate, 
^ the characfter and quality of producftions, 
\sTitten exprellly for the amufement of 
the lower orders, in the reigns of Ehzabeth, James, 
and Charles. Our volume confills of fuch ordinary 
materials as formed the Itock of the Englilh ballad- 
finger during a period not far Ihort of a century. 
Many traces will be found in them of the modes in 
which they were rendered acceptable to the crowd, 
when fung in our moft frequented thoroughfares. 

It would, therefore, be manifeftly unfiir to judge of 
them by the ftandard ufually applied to the higher 
claiTes of poetry, although poetry of no inferior defcrip- 
tion will occafionally be found in them : nor are their 
merits to be meafured by the eaficr procefs of com- 
parifon with well known works, in fome refpe(5ts fimi- 
lar. The volumes of Percy and Ritlon are compofed 
of mixed fpecimens : fometimes, it is true, they were 



addrefTed to general auditors, but they are often the 
compolitions of writers in the fuperior grades of life, 
and were intended for the gratification of more refined 
fociety. Our alTemblage of popular poetry has no 
precedent : it is different from any other production 
of the kind hitherto publifhed ; and, as in its fubftance 
it is peculiar, we have made its form and appearance 
correfpond with its fubftance. 

We have obtained by far the'greater number of our 
ballads from what has been long known as the Rox- 
burghe Collection, confifting of three large volumes 
in folio, and embracing nearly a thoufand broadfides in 
black letter.* Some of thefe are repetitions of the 

* It was commenced by Harley, Earl of Oxford, and was aug- 
mented by Weft and Pearfon, but efpecially by the Duke of Rox- 
burghe, at whofe fale it was bought for the late Mr. Bright. For 
many years he kept the volumes out of fight ; but they, as well as a 
manufcript colle6lion of Miracle-plays (the pofleflion of which he alfo 
for fome reafon concealed) were neceflarily brought to light at his death. 
The ballads were judicioufly fecured by the authorities of the Britifli 
Mufeum, but they were unfuccefsful bidders for the Miracle-plays : the 
latter circumftance is the more to be regretted, becaufe this feries of 
inedited Scriptural Dramas has devolved into the hands of fome party 
who has again plunged it into darknefs, and will not allow any ufe 
to be made of it : 8 nlv](Ttg uKKa %pvjo"/? was the excellent motto of one 
of the old pofTeflbrs of the collection ufually known as the Coventry 
Plays (printed for the Shakefpeare Society in 1841), and it was in- 
fcribed by him in the volume. The prefent owner of the York Plays 



fame producflion by different printers ; a few, from 
their nature and fubjecft, are unfit for republication, 
and others, from their general worthlefihefs, do not 
merit it. The whole are now placed in the Hritilh 
Mufeum, where they are acceffible, and where means 
of collation are afforded : the tranfcripts we have 
employed were made before the originals were pur- 
chafed for their laft owner, but there is no inlknce in 
which our copies have not fince'been compared. Other 
fources have been reforted to, although fparingly, and 
feveral of the moft ancient and interefling ballads have 
been derived from the editor's portfolio. 

On the rarity of all it is fuperfluous to enlarge : in 
many, if not in mofi:, inftances the broadfides are 
unique : no duplicates of them are to be met with in 
public or private libraries ; and it is ealy to account 
for this circumffance, if we refled: that they were fel- 
dom printed in a form calculated for prefervation. 
Thomas Deloney and Richard Johnfon were almoft 
the only ballad-writers, of that age, who fubfequently 
brought together their fcattered broadfides in fmall 
volumes,* while hundreds of fimilar pieces by other 

(for in that city, we believe, they were performed previous to the Re- 
formation) ought to reverie the motto, and write in his volume 8 %pv;5"/; 
uKKu nly,(jig. Time may yet ftand our friend. 

* Deloney, in his "Strange Hiftories," 1607, and " Garland of 



popular authors were allowed to perifh. The more 
generally acceptable a ballad became, the more it was 
handed about for perufal or performance, and the more 
it was expofed to the danger of deftrudiion. 

The confequence has been, that very few ballads, as 
they came from the hands of thofe who may be called 
our elder printers, have defcended to our day ; and 
many of the beft in our volume would have been 
irretrievably loft, but that the conftant demand for 
them induced typographers of the reigns of James and 
Charles, in particular, to republifh them. The year, 
whether of impreffion or re-impreffion, is very rarely 
given on the broadlide; but it is ufually known between 
what dates the printers, whofe names are appended, 
carried on bufmefs, and from thence we are generally 
able to form a judgment as to the age of produd;ions 
of their prelTes. The times when reprinted ballads 
were firft compofed and ilTued mufl often be matter 
of mere conjecture, depending much upon internal evi- 

Good-will," (publifhed before 1596) and Johnfon, in his *' Crown 
Garland of Golden Rofes," 1612. Some new particulars regarding 
Deloney are to be found in " Memoirs of the Principal A£tors in the 
Plays of Shakefpeare," printed by the Shakefpeare Society, pp. xxviii. 
no, 193. Richard Johnfon began writing early, for he was not born 
until 1573, (as appears by the Regifter of St. Giles, Cripplegate, a 
point in his hiftory not hitherto afcertained,) and he publifhed his firft 
work in 1592, 



dence, and even this is rendered more uncertain by inter- 
polations, not unfrequently made, in order that the 
work fliould be more welcome to auditors of the period 
of republication. In our brief preface to each feparate 
piece we have, among other points, endeavoured, as 
far as poffible, to affift the reader in fettling the date 
of its earlieft appearance ; but in not a few cafes it has 
been a talTc of extreme doubt and difficulty, and we can 
hardly flatter ourfelves that in many inftances we have 
entirely fucceeded. The beft we could now and then 
accomplifli was to make an approximation ; and our 
volume contains frequent proofs of the changes ballads 
underwent, with a view to adapt them to circum- 
ftances of comparatively recent occurrence. We will 
afford one inftance in point, and leave the reft to the 
difcovery of the reader, with fuch help as we may have 
elfewhere afforded. 

In the Roxburghe volumes, from which, as already 
ftated, we have fo largely drawn, are two copies of a 
fingular and amufing ballad with the title of " Mock- 
beggar's Hall:" both appear to belong to about the 
period of the Civil Wars ; but one copy is evidently 
anterior to the other, and the older of the two (that ot 
which we have availed ourfelves on p. 49) muft have 
been publilhed before the hnal clofmg of the theatres by 
the puritans in 1648. The author is fpeaking ot the 



incrcafe of expenfc and luxury, and laughing at thole 
who, aping their richer neighbours, were not content 
to pafs through the ftrcets in anything hut a coach, 
although they could afford to keep no other fervant 
than a man to drive it : he fays, 

" Thcv arc not able rw'o men to keep, 
With a coachman they muft content be, 
Which at Playhoufe door in's box lies afleep, 
While Mock-beggcr Hall ftands empt)*." 

When thcfe lines were written, and originally pub- 
lished, the play-houfes were open, and many auditors 
were driven to them in coaches; but when the later copy 
of the fame ballad was printed, the theatres had been 
Hiut up by authority, and, as any allufion to thefe places 
of amufement and inftrudion might be unpalatable 
to the rulers of the ftate, and as the cuftom of going 
to plav-houfes in coaches was necelTarily at an end, 
the palTage was thus altered : 

" They are not able two men to keep, 
With a coachman the)' muft content be, 
Which at G'Jdfmith's Hall tioir in's box lies adeep, 
While Mock-begger Hall ftands empt)'." 

It would be eafy to multiply examples to the fame 
effed, but it is the lefs necelfary here, becaufe we have 
adverted to Tome of them in the preliminary matter, 
explanatory of circumrtances connected with each 



ballad. This information we have rendered as com- 
plete as our limits would permit.* 

We have made no attempt to arrange the enfuing 
fpecimens according to date : in but few inAances, 
as alreadv remarked, could we have felt futficient con- 
fidence, as to the precife period of compofition or pub- 
lication, to enable us to fpeak at all decilively ; and 
the fubjecls are fo varied, that to have placed them in 
any order dependent upon character and defign would 
have been clearlv impolTible. The comic and fatirical, 
in point of number, much prevail over the ferious and 
legendary- ; and it might reafonably be expected, that 
produiftions intended to be popular would generallv 
rather aim at exciting laughter than tears : fome of 
them are highlv humorous, and, no doubt, a great 
deal of droller)- was frequently dil'played by llreet-per- 
formers in linging them. 

It is not necelTan.-, on this occalion, to enter into 
the origin, or ancient hillon.', of ballad-writing and 
ballad-linging in England : we have very few ballads. 

* The reader muft be prepared for irregiilariries of metre, not 
merely becaule the writers fometimes trufted to the fmger and the tunc, 
to coire*^ and reconcile faults of fyllabic conftrutfbon, but be 
'it not unfrequentiv happened that corruptions were introduced ;: 
procels of reprinting ballads, which marred the meal'ure of the original 
author. What we have jull quoted is an inllance in point, as regards 
a chanee in the metre, a« well as in the meaning. 



in our prefent fenfe of the word, of an earlier date 
than the reign of Edward VI.* We know, indeed, 
that they muft have been fung about the town and 
country before the Reformation; and in 1537 a man 
of the name of John Hogon was arrefted for amufing 
the people in various places by a political ballad : he 
had offended againft the proclamation of 1533, which 
was ilTued to fupprefs " fond books, ballads, rhimes, 
and other lewd treatifes in the Englifh tongue." •^-• 
Ten years afterwards it was deemed neceffary to pafs 
an ad: of parliament in order, among other things, to 
put a ftop to the circulation of "printed ballads, plays, 
rhimes, fongs and other fantafies;" fo that the mul- 
tiplication of them by the prefs was then confidered an 
evil requiring the intervention of the legiflature, al- 

* Ritfon is probably correft in ftating, that " the oldeft printed 
ballad known to be extant, is that on the downfall ofl^homas Lord 
Cromwell in 1540, reprinted by Dr. Percy." — Ancient Songs^ I. xcviii. 

t Collier's Shakefpeare, I. cclxxxviii. The only words of Hogon's 
fong preferved are thefe, and we quote them as a literary curiofity. 

" The hunt is up, the hunt is up, &c. 

The Maflers of Arte and Do61:ours of dyvynyte 
Have brought this realme out of good unyte. 
Thre nobyll men have take this to ftay. 
My Lord of Norffolk, Lorde of Surrey, 
And my Lorde of Shrewfbyrry : 
The Duke of Suffolk myght have made Inglond mery." 



though only a fingle broadfide of about that date has 
been handed down to us. 

Ballads feem to have multiplied after Edward \'I. 
came to the throne, and two or three of thefe have been 
preferved, and are in clofe cuftody in the cabinets of the 
curious:* no new proclamation was iifued, nor ihitute 
palled, on the fubjed; while Edward continued to reign ; 
but in lefs than a month after Mary became Queen, 
flie publiflied an edid: againft " books, ballads, rhymes, 
and treatifes," which Ihe complained had been ** fet 
out by printers and ftationers, of an evil zeal for lucre, 
and covetous of vile gain." There is little doubt, from 

* A manufcript drama of great peculiarity of conftrucflion, and bcar- 
ino- date in the laft year of the reig;n of Edward VI. contains the firfl: 
lines of feveral fongs afligned to the charadters : the words were not in- 
ferted at length, becaufe (as was often the cafe afterwards) they were fo 
popular, and well known to the finger, that it was only deemed ncccf- 
fary to fignify them. They are highly curious relics : one of them 
begins, " Bring ye to me, and I to thee ; " another, " Hey noney, 
noney, houghe for money;" a third, "The mercy of God;" and 
a fourth, 

" Haye, haye, haic, haie ! 
I wilbe merie while I male." 

None of thefe have come down to us in a printed ftate, although 
doubtlefs in print at the time they werefung. The original manufcript 
play is entitled " Refpublica," and is in the librar)' of Hudfon Gurney, 
Efq. to whom the editor was feveral years ago obliged for the op- 
portunity of copying it. 



the few pieces remaining, that it was in a coniiderable 
degree effectual for the end in view. 

No fuch restraint was deemed neceffary when Eliza- 
beth fucceeded her lifter, and the confequence was an 
increafe of ballads and ballad-ftngers : then it was that 
fome productions of the kind, which had been pre- 
ferved in manufcript, were printed, and new additions 
were made to the popular ftock. Robert Langham, 
who wrote his " Letter from Kenilworth" in the 
autumn of 1575, has left behind him in it a goodly 
lift of works of romance and drollery then in circula- 
tion, including a bundle of ballads, " fair wrapped up 
in parchment and bound with a whipcord : " thefe he 
tells us were " all ancient," meaning perhaps to refer 
to a date when fuch publications had been forbidden. 
He fupplies fome of the titles ; * and others are enu- 
merated by one of the charad:ers in the old interlude 
by W. Wager, ** The longer thou liveft the more 
Fool thou art," printed without date, but after Lang- 

* We give them in Langham's peculiar and conceited fpelling : — 
" What fhoold I rehearz heer what a bunch of Ballets and fongs, all 
auncient ? Az Broom broom on hill — So wo iz me begon — Troly lo 
— Guer a whinny Meg — Hey ding a ding — Bony lafs vpon a green 
— My bony on gaue me a bek — By a bank az I lay ; and a hundred 
more he hath, fair wrapt vp in Parchment, and bound with a whip- 
cord." — Collier's Bridgewater Catalogue^ privately printed for the Earl 
of Ellefmere, 4to, 1837, p. 164. 



ham's traft.-f- Few of thefe have furvived, and until 
not far from the clofe of the reign of Elizabeth, broad- 

t It will be Icen that two of the ballads mentioned by Wager are the 
fame as thofe given by Langham, which affords evidence of their popu- 
larity at the time they wrote. The following is afligned to Moros, the 
Vice of the play, who enters Tinging. 

" Brome, Brome, on hill, 
The gentle Brome on hill, hill j 
Brome, Brome, on Hiue hill. 
The gentle Brome on Hiue hill. 
The Brome ftandes on Hiue hill a. 

Robin, lend me thy bowe, thy bowe ; 

Robin the bow, Robin lende to me thy bow a. 

There was a Mayde come out of Kent, 

Deintie loue, deintie loue ! 

There was a mayde cam out of Kent 

Daungerous be [fhe] : 

There was a mayde cam out of Kent, 

Fayre, propre, fmall and gent, 

And euer vpon the ground went, 

For fo (hould it be. 

By a banlce as I lay, I lay, 
Mufmge on things paft, hey how ! 

Tom a lln and his wife, and his wiues mother, 
They went ouer a bridge, all three together : 
The bridge was broken and they fell in ; 
The Deuill go with all, quoth Tom a lin. 

Martin Swart and his man, fodledum, fodledum ; 
Martin Swart and his man, fodledum bell. 

Come ouer the boorne, BefTe, 



iides cannot be faid to have been at all numerous. 
Philip Stubbes, writing his "Anatomy of Abufes" in 
1583, objed:s to the ** minftrels and mulicians" who 
infefted town and country, and inveighs violently 
againft the " fongs, filthy ballads and fcurvy rhymes," 
which they vended to the populace. Coming down 
to a later date, we have the authority of Chettle's 
" Kind Heart's Dream," 1 592, for the fad that " many 
a tradefman, of a worfliipful trade," brought up ap- 
prentices to " finging brokery," and foon trufted them 
"with a dozen groatfworth of ballads." About this 
period, and fomewhat earlier, it was that Elderton, 
Munday, Deloney, Johnfon and feveral others flou- 
rished, and kept the metropolis, as well as the provinces, 
fully fupplied with ballad literature.* 

My little pretie BefTe, 

Come ouer the boorne, BefTe, to me." 

Hiji. Engl. Drmn. Poetry and the Stage^ ii. 333. 
* Chettle's evidence is decifive as to the number of ballad-fmgers in 
his day : " I am given to underftand that there be a company of idle 
youths, loathing honeft labour, and defpifmg lawfuU trades, betake them 
to a vagrant and vicious life, in every corner of cities and market- 
tow^nes of the rcalme, finging and felling ballads," &c. He feverely cen- 
fures the chara6ter and tendency of thefe produ6lions, and efpecially 
points out " Watkin's Ale," " The Carman's Whiftle," " Chopping 
Knives," " Friar Foxtail," and " The Friar and the Nun." — Kind 
Heart's Dream^ 1592- Thomas Nafh in his humorous trails men- 
tions " Watkin's Ale," and feveral other ballads extremely popular be- 



Matters continued without nuicli alteration durin^'- 
the reign of James I., excepting that particular printers 
were then licenfed to publiOi broadlidcs and other 
pieces, occupying only one fide of paper, of courfe 
including ballads : they granted alTignnients to others 
for ftipulated fums, and the " worOiipful trades" of 
ballad-making, ballad-felling, and ballad-fmging, had 
certainly never been more flouriiliing.* 

About the middle of the reign of Charles I. fome 
new writers of this clafs made their appearance, the 

fore the end of Elizabeth's reign. Henry Bold, more than half a ccnturv 
afterwards, fpeaks of ancient tunes ftill " fung to Barber's Citterns," viz. 
" The Lady's Fall," " John come Icifs me now," " Green Sleeves 
and Pudding Pies," " The Punk's Delight," « The Winning of Bul- 
logne," and " Eflex's laft: (jood-night." — Latin Songs and tkcir Eng- 
lijh Words. 

* To about this period we mav refer the enumeration of ballads in 
Fletcher's "Monfieur Thomas," A(5l. iii. Sc. 3. A Fiddler is there 
introduce, who informs the hero that he can fing the following : " The 
Duke of Norfolk— the merry ballad of Dives and Lazarus — the Rofe 
of England — In Crete when Dedimus firft began — Jonas his Crying- 
out againft Coventry — Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter — the Devil 
— Ye dainty Dames — the Landing of the Spaniards at Bow, with the 
bloody Battle of Mile-end." — Dyce^s Beaumont and Fletcher^ vii. p. 
364. To thefe we may fubjoin the titles of fome ballads mentioned by 
Samuel Rowlands, in his " Crew of kind Goflips," &c. 1613. They 
are, " Miftrefs, will you do," "My man Thomas did me promife," 
" The Pinnace rigg'd with filken faile," " Pretty Birds," " The Gar- 
den Nightingale," " I'll tie my Mare in thy ground," and " Befs for 
Abufes." See alfo his " *Tis merry when Goffips meet," 1602. 



principal of whom was Martin Parker, who induftri- 
oufly availed himfelf of every opportunity for putting 
his pen to paper : he was fubfequently alTifted by 
another prolific poet of the fame defcription, named 
Lawrence Price, while Wade, Climfell, Guy, &c. 
were not by any means flow in their contributions. 
Thus, we have many more broadfides belonging to 
the forty years immediately preceding the Reftora- 
tion, than have come down to us during the whole pre- 
vious period from the Reformation. Among them 
are to be included not a few reprints of older ballads, 
of which only the re-impreffions are now extant : 
they were, no doubt, fcarce when their republication 
was undertaken by the printers, bookfellers, and fta- 
tioners, who carried on a profitable bufinefs from about 
1620 to 1660. 

An imperfed: attempt to put a fudden termination 
to dramatic performances was made in 1642, and 
carried into execution in 1 648 : theatres remained fhut 
(with a few infliances of difobedience) until the return 
of Charles II. During this interval the writers and 
printers of ballads (which were flill ifllied as black- 
letter broadfides) feem to have reaped an unufually 
abundant harveft ; for in proportion as the people 
were deprived of one fpecies of amufement they evi- 
dently required another. We know that many of 


thefe produdiions were of a political complexion ; and 
although none fuch have reached our day, it is not 
unlikely that Ibme ballads were fatirically diredted 
againft the parties who had been prominent, or inftru- 
mental, in putting an end to theatrical reprefenta- 
tions. The a6t for fuppreffing the ftage was illued in 
the Spring, and in the Autumn of 1648 the Provoft 
Marflial was directed and empowered " to feize upon 
all ballad-fingers, fellers of malignant pamphlets, and 
to fend them to the feveral militias, and to fupprefs 
ftage-plays."* This exhibition of arbitrary power does 
not feem to have been by any means effedlual as re- 
gards ballad-fmgers, and judging from the numerous 
broadfides of the time, whether reprints of older pro- 
dudions, or entirely new compofitions, the prefs, after 
the theatres were put down, may be faid to have teemed 
with ballads, and the ftreets to have been filled with 
itinerant muficians, who, in a remarkable trad: of the 
time, are humoroully called " the running ftationers 
of London." -f* 


* Whitelocke's Memorials, p. 337. 

t " Knaves are no honeft Men, or More Knaves yet, &:c. compoied 
by I. L.," without name of printer, or date. The author's vv^ords are, 
" Marry, they fay that the running ftationers of London, I mean fuch 
as ufe to fmg ballads, and thofe that cry malignant pamphlets in the 
ftreets have all laid their heads together," &:c. 



Had not the public eagerly encouraged this fpecies 
of performance, of courfe, fo many ballads would not 
have been publiflied ; but, recollecSting the comparative 
value of money, the price of a broadlide could hardly 
have been within the reach of the pooreflclalTes. We 
may perhaps calculate, that during the Protedorate 
money was worth at leaft twice as much as at prefent, 
yet we find that then (and earlier, when money was far 
more fcarce) the coft of a ballad was a penny. Of this 
fa6t feveral diflind: proofs are contained in our volume, 
for on p. 41 the finger tells his auditors, 

" Nor would I have a fcold 
one penny here beftow, 
But honeft men and wives 
buy thefe before you goe : " 

and on p. 151 we read as follows : 

" And thus you now have heard the praife 
of Nothing, worth a penny^ 
Which, as I fland to fing here now, 
I hope will yeeld me many." 

Such it appears had been the charge, as it were by 
prefcription, for many years : Nicholas Breton, in 
his " Pafquil's Madcap," 1600, had advifed " profe 
writers " to change their occupation, in confequence of 
the greater fuccefs of the authors of " penny bal- 



lads."* At that period money was four or five times 
lefs abundant than with us : a quarto play, ilich as 
"Much ado about Nothing," (printed in 1600) was 
then fold for fixpence ; a fmall tra6t or poem for four- 
pence ; a chap-book, in 8vo. for two-pence, and a 
broadfide ballad for one penny. It was not long after 
the Reftoration that ballads fo degenerated, in quality 
and eftimation, that they were faleable at only half the 
fum they had produced from the reign of Elizabeth 
downwards. The theatres, as every body knows, were 
then once more in acftive operation. 

We have already faid fomething of the general fide- 
lity with which we have adhered to the old copies : 

* His lines are thefe : 

" Goe, tell the poets that their pedling rimes 

Begin apace to grow out of requeft, 
While wanton humours in ihefe idle times 

Can make of love but as a laughing jeft : 
And tell profe-writers, ftories are fo ftale 
That penny ballads make a better fale." 

No man put the town to the teft, as regards both verfe and profe, 
more frequently and perfeveringly than Breton ; but we are not aware 
of any ballad, properly fo called, of his compofition, unlefs we may 
affign to him one on p. 254 of our volume. He was a very popular 
pamphleteer, and, as the parifh regifters (hew, lived very near Trun- 
dle, the ballad-bookfeller, where feveral of his children were born and 
buried : this is not the place for inferting extracts from them, but 
they form entirely new points in his biography. 



we have carried this fo far, that we have not only 
obferved the orthography of our originals, but even 
their mifprints, if they were not mere literal errors, 
if the miftakes in a manner corrected themfelves, or 
did not materially interfere with the fenfe.* Our 
objedt has been to prefent the compoiitions, as nearly 
as our typography would allow, in their earlieit fhape, 
even to the difufe of many capital letters at the com- 
mencement of lines. This pracflice, with our old 
printers, arofe out of the fad: that lines, often divided 
into two, were in truth only one, the feparation having 
been made for the convenience of the page : we feled: 
a iingle illuftration from p. 250, where we read. 

* We take a fpecimen, almoft at random, from one of the very few 
broadfides we have inferted, which are not hi the ftriileft fenfe of the 
word ballads : it occurs on p. 56. 

" So likewife pride in London now 

Doeth floriflie in fuche goodly forte, 
That they invent which waie and how 

Thereby augmented it might be." 

In every other ftanza the fecond and fourth lines rhyme, and here 
we may be pretty fure that the fecond line ought to end " in goodly 
'gree," in order that it might correfpond with "be" in the fourth line. 
As, however, " forte" perfectly well fuits the fenfe of the paflage, we 
have not difturbed the old text. This poem (which is by one of the 
poets we have for the firft time introduced to the knowleldge of the 
reader) alfo appeared in 8vo. in the fame year as the broadfide, 1573. 

*' While married men doe lie 
with worldly cares oppreft, 
Wee batchelors can flecpe, 
and fweetly take our reft." 

which, in the author's manufcript, we mav fuppofc, 
ftood thus : 

" While married men doe lie with worldly cares oppreft, 
Wee batchelors can fleepe, and fweetly take our reft. 

Even when the fhort lines rhymed alternately, the old 
typographers frequently rejected capitals, perhaps be- 
caufe, being in a fmall way of bulinefs, they had not 
futhcient letter for their purpofe. We have accompanied 
the ballads by fac-fimiles of fuch wood-cuts as ufed to 
be prefixed to the old broadfides themfelves ; the main 
difference being, that we have transferred to the end what 
was formerly invitingly placed at the beginning. Moft 
of thofe we have adopted were repeatedly employed by 
the printers of broadfides, who feldom cared whether 
an ornament of the kind were or were not appropriate 
to the fubje(fl of the ballad, as long as it was likely to 
attra6t attention. 

In this refpedl we have ufually been fomewhat more 
obfervant than they were : a ballad-printer was in the 
habit of buying up old wood-cuts, which had been en- 
graved for any other works, and of applying them to his 
own purpofes. Difregarding their age, rudenels, and 



condition, we have made a feledtion of fuch as were 
moft chara(fteriftic, or interefting on account of their 
reference to notorious perfonages : thus on p. 54 will 
be found a reprefentation of the celebrated Richard 
Tarlton, whofe popular portrait was often employed, 
and who, befides being a famous ad:or, was himfelf 
a ballad-writer. On p. 120 is a wood-cut of the old 
poet John Gower, apparelled as he was exhibited on 
the ftage in Shakefpeare's " Pericles," and as he is feen 
on the title-page of the novel of 1608, founded upon 
that play.* On p. 134 is a full length of that great 
profe-fatirifl Thomas Nafli, in fetters, as he figures in 
one of Gabriel Harvey's trad:s againft him ; and ano- 
ther reprefentation of Nafh, as a ghoft, is inferted on 
p. 263. Gabriel Harvey, his antagonift, is found on 
p. 201, probably from Nafli's own drawing in his 
"Have with you to Saffron Walden," 1596. Will 
Kemp, the comic performer in fome of Shakefpeare's 

* For the title and a full account of this very remarkable volume fee 
" Farther Particulars regarding Shakefpeare and his Works," 8vo. 1839. 
It w^as fold by audlion among Mr. Heber's books, as if it w^ere the ftory 
of vv^hich our great dramatift had availed himfelf; but it was much 
more curious, becaufc it was founded upon the play, not the play upon 
it, and becaufe it contains various pafTages, reduced to profe, which 
were no doubt a6led, but are not in any of the printed copies of " Peri- 
cles." Much illuftrative matter, conne6led with the progrefs of the 
plot, is alfo fupplied by the novel. 



dramas, will be feen dancing his Morris to Norwich 
on p. 216, from the title-page of his "Nine Day's 
Wonder," 1600: and the notorious Robert Cirecne, 
the pamphleteer and dramatift, is depicted writing in 
his winding fheet on p. 303.''' 

Other amufing reprefentations, in the courfe of our 
volume, had alfo been previoufly employed for various 
productions ; and in looking at them, it is always to 
be borne in mind that, as accurate imitations of the 
originals, they give a perfe(5t notion of the fort of 
ornaments required by the ballad-buying public for 
more than half a century before the death of Charles I. 
The wood-cut of Robin Goodfellow, on p. 41, had 
been employed in a pamphlet devoted to his " mad 
merry pranks," publiilied, perhaps, before Shakefpeare 
wrote for the ftage : the man and his dog on p. 59, 
belongs to the firfh edition of Dekker's " Belman 
of London," printed in 1608 : the Pyramus and 
Thifbe, on p. 96, is a foreign producflion, but adorns 
the title-page of R. AVolfe's " Pierce Ploughman's 

* This is from the title-page of a rare tract called " Greene in 
Conceipt, new raifed from his Grave to write the Tragique Hif- 
torie of faire Valeria of London," &:c. 4to. 1598. It is the only re- 
femblance (if indeed fuch it may be termed) of that remarkable man, 
who died juft as Shakefpeare was faft rifmg into popularity, and who 
!eft behind him the earlieft allufion to his name and fame. 



Creed," as early as 1553 : the wife man of Gotham, 
hedging in the cuckoo, on p. 126, is from an old im- 
preflion of Andrew Borde's celebrated colle(flion of 
Tales : the Watchman on p. 152, is one of a curious 
fet of the " Cries of London," publiihed in the reign 
of James I. : the Conjuror fwallowing the ferpent is 
contained in an ancient and droll account of Bar- 
tholomew Fair : the gentleman and countryman con- 
verfmg, on p. 231, firft appeared in Robert Greene's 
"Quip for an Upflart Courtier," 1592: the Tinker, 
on p. 286, was a favourite and frequent decoration 
of ballads during nearly the whole period our volume 
embraces ; and Sir Bevis, attended by his Squire, 
on p. 297, is evidently older, but was ufed in the ro- 
mance relating to that hero, printed by W. Stanlby 
before Charles I. came to the crown. 

Were it worth while, we might go into much 
farther detail refpediing the fources whence we have 
obtained our illuftrations : among them are only three 
which do not form the head -pieces of old ballads, 
or are not derived from chap-books and tradis of an 
early date, fubfequently employed by printers of broad- 
fides of an ephemeral character and temporary in- 
tereft. Two of thefe will be noticed on pp. 220 and 
311, in a different and fuperior ftyle of delign, while 
the third concludes the prefent introducftion : it was 


cut from a fpirited iketch by no lefs an artirt than Ini'^o 
Jones, as the reprefentation of an EngHdi ballad- 
finger about twentyyears after the death of Shakefpearc, 
and it is fo defcribcd in his own hand-writing upon 
the original drawing. The editor was permitted to copy 
it by favour of the Duke of Devonfliire, to whom, as 
on many former occalions, he begs leave to tender his 
grateful acknowledgments. 




EATH'S Dance i 

To the Tune of " Oh, no, no, no, not yet," 

The World's Sweetheart r 

To the Tune of " The Beggar Boy." 

Chriftmas' Lamentation 12 

To the Tune ot " Now the Spring is come." 

The Gentleman in Thracia 17 

To the Tune of" Chevy Chafe." 

Ragged and Torn and True 26 

To the Tune of " Old Simon the King." 

The Complaint of King James 31 

Written by Ulpian Fulwell. 

The Devil and the Scold 35 

To the Tune of" The Seminary Prieft." 

The Lamentation of Friendfhip 42 

Written by Thomas Churchyard. 

Mock-Beggar's Hall 49 

To the Tune of " It is not your Northern Nanny." 

A Larum Bell for London 55 

Written by John Carre. 

The Bride's Goodmorrow 60 

To a pleafant new Tune. 

xxxu Contents. 


The Soldier's Repentance 64 

To the Tune of " Calino." 

The Widow of Wading Street 69 

To the Tunes of" Bragandaiy," and " The Wanton Wife." 

Cupid's Courtefie 80 

To a moft pleafant Northern Tune. 

My Wife will be my Mafter 85 

To the Tune of " A Tailor is no Man." 

The Conftancy of True Love 90 

To the Tune of " Down by a Foreft." 

Few Words are beft 79 

To the Tune of " I'll tell you but fo." 

The Merchant's Daughter of Briftol 104 

To the Tune of " The Maiden's Joy." 

My Pretty Little One 116 

To a pleafant new Tune. 

The Devil driven away by Women 121 

To the Tune of " Death's Dance." 

The Lamentation of England 127 

By W. M., to the Tune of " Weep, weep." 

Be Merry Friends 135 

By John Heywood, to a new Tune. 

Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell 139 

Written by William Elderton. 

The Father's Admonition . I43 

To the Tune of " Grim King of Ghofts." 

The Praife of Nothing 147 

To the Tune of " Though I have but a mark a year." 

The Norfolk Farmer's Journey to London ... • • i53 

To the Tune of " The Spanifli Pavin." 

Conftance of Cleveland ... 163 

To the Tune of " Crimfon Velvet." 




The Song of the Caps 1-2 

To the Tune of" The Shaking of the Sheets." 

Sack for my Money i-- 

To the Tune of " Wet and Weary." 

The Brave Englifh Gipfey 183 

To the Tune of " The SpaniHi Gipfey." 

The Subftance of all the late intended Treafons . . . . . 189 

Written by Thomas Nelfon. 

The Bull's Feather igy 

To a very pleafant new Tune. 

The Weft Country Damfel's Complaint 202 

To the Tune of " Johnny Armftrong." 

The Common Cries of London 207 

By W. Turner, to the Tune of" Watton Town's End," 

The Two Valentines 217 

To the Tune " Did you fee Nan to-day." 

The Great Booby 221 

To the Tune of " Sellenger's Round." 

The Tragedy of Hero and Leander 227 

To the Tune of " I w-ill never love thee more." 

The Royal Recreation of Jovial Anglers 232 

To the Tune of " Amarillis." 

Keep a good Tongue in your Head 237 

By Martin Parker, to the Tune of" The Milk Maids." 

The Milk-maid's Life 243 

By M. Parker, to the Tune of " The Milk Maid's Dumps." 

The Bachelor's Feaft 249 

By Lawrence Price, to the Tune of " With a hie dill do dill." 

The Mifer and the Prodigal 254 

To the Tune of" To drive the cold Winter away." 

Wit's never good till 'tis Bought 264 

To the Tune of " BalTe's Career." 





A Caveat for Cutpurfes 271 

To the Tune of " Packington's Pound." 

The Houfeholder's New-year's Gift 276 

To the Tune of " Where is my true Love," 

The Time's Abufes 281 

To the Tune of " Over and Under." 

The Lover's Complaint 287 

To a plealant new Tune. 

The Coach's Overthrovi^ 291 

To the Tune of " Old King Harry." 

The Bad Hufband turn'd thrifty 298 

By John Wade, to the Tune of " Hey ho, my Honey." 

The Pedlar's Lamentation 304 

To the Tune of " My Life and my Death." 

Poor Robin's Dream 308 

To the Tune of " A Game at Cards." 

God fpeed the Plough and Blefs the Corn-mow 312 

To the Tune of" I am the Duke of Norfolk." 

The Merry Man's Refolution 317 

By L. Price, to the Tune of " The Highlanders new Rant." 

Well Matched at laft 323 

To the Tune of " I know what I know." 

Death's uncontrolable Summons 3^^ 

To the Tune of " My bleeding Heart." 

Death's Dance. 

To he fun g to a pleafant nnv Tune called^ " Oh no no no not yet, 
or The Alcddow Brow." 

[It is, perhaps, not now poffible to arrive at anv greater certainty 
refpecling the age of this moral and fatirical ballad, than that it muft 
have been written fome time after the opening of the Roval Exchange 
in 1570, that building being mentioned, in the third llanza, as the com- 
mon refort of merchants. Henr>^ Goilon, for whom the copy we have 
ufed was printed, was a bookfeller in the reign of James I. and after- 
wards ; but we may reafonably believe that " Death's Dance" was 
originally publifhed before the year 1580 : J. Awdelev had licenfe to 
print a " Daunce and Song of Death" as early as 1568, but it could 
not be this ballad, which feems to have been unknown to Mr. Douce, 
when he prepared his learned volume on the defis^ns imputed to Macaber 
and Holbein. There are feveral ballads to the popular tune of " the 
Shaking of the Sheet, or the Dance of Death" (See Chappells " Nat. 
Engl. Airs" ii. 121.) but the prefent is entirely a different produtflion.] 

F Death would come to ihew his face 
as he dare ihow his powre. 
And lit at many a rich mans place 
both every day and houre, 
He would amaze them every one 

to fee him ftanding there, 
And wifli that foone he would be gone 
from all their dwellings faire. 

Death's Dance. 

Or if that Death would take the paines 

to goe to the water fide. 
Where merchants purchafe golden gaines 

to pranke them up in pride. 
And bid them thinke upon the poore, 

or elfe, ** He fee you foone," 
There would be given them at their doore 

good almes both night and noone. 

Or walke into the Royall-Exchange 

when every man is there. 
No doubt, his comming would be ftrange 

to put them all in feare. 
How they do worldly buy and fell, 

to make their markets good ; 
Their dealings all would profper well, 

if fo the matter ftood. 

Or if Death would take the paine 

to go to Pauls one day. 
To talke with fuch as there remaine 

to walke, and not to pray ; 
Of life they would take lafting leafe, 

though nere fo great a fine : 
What is not that but fome would give 

to fet them up a fhrine ? 

If Death would go to Weftminfter 
to walke about the Hall, 

Death's Dance. 

And make himfclfe a counfellor 

in pleas amongft them all, 
I thinke the Court of Confcience 

would have a great regard, 
When Death Ihould come with diligence 

to have their matters heard. 

For Death hath been a Checker-man 

not many yeares agoe ; 
And he is fuch a one as can 

beftow his checking fo, 
That never a clarke within the Hall 

can argue fo his cafe. 
But Death can overrule them all 

in every court and place. 

If Death would keepe a tipling houfe 

where royfters do refort. 
And take the cup and drinke carowfe 

when they are in their fport ; 
And briefly fay, " My maflers all, 

why ftand you idle here ? 
I bring to you Saint Giles his bowle," 

'twould put them all in feare. 

If Death would make a flep to dance 

where lufty gallants be. 
Or take dice and throw a chance 

when he doth gamefters fee ; 


Death's Dance. 

And lay, ** My mafters, have at all. 

I warrant it will be mine," 

They would in amazement fall 

to fet him any coyne. 

If Death would goilip now and then 

amongft the crabbed wives. 

That taunt and raile at their good men 

to make them weary lives. 

It would amaze them, I might fay. 

fo fpightfully to boafl. 

That they will beare the fwing and fway. 

and overrule the roafl. 

If Death but quarterly would come 

amongft the landlords crue. 

And take account of every fum 


that rifes more then due. 

As well of income as of fine. 

above the old fet rent. 

They would let leafes without coyne. 


for feare they ihould be fhent. 

If Death would take his dayly courfe 

where tradefmen fell their ware. 

His welcome, fure, would be more worfe 

then thofe of monyes bare : 

It would aifright them for to fee 

his leane and hollow lookes. 

If Death would fay, *' Come, ihow to inc 
my reckoning in your bookes." 

If Death would thorow the markets trace 

where Confcience ul 'd to dwell, 
And take but there a huckfter's place, 

he might do wondrous well : 
High prizes would abated be, 

And nothing found too deare ; 
When Death fliould call, " Come, buy of me," 

'twould put them all in feare. 

If Death would prove a gentleman, 

and come to court our dames. 
And do the beft of all he can 

to blazon forth their names ; 
Yet fhould he little welcomes have 

Amongft fo fayre a crew 
That daily go fo fine and brave, 

when they his face do view. 

Or if he would but walke about 

our city fuburbs round, 
There would be given, out of doubt, 

full many a golden pound 
To fpare our wanton female crew, 

and give them longer day ; 
But Death will grant no leafes new, 

but take them all away. 


Death's Dance. 

For Death hath promifed to come. 

and come he will indeede : 

Therefore I warne you, all and fome. 

beware and take good heede ; 

For what you do, or what you be. 

hee's fure to find and know you : 

Though he be blind, and cannot fee. 

in earth he will beftow you. 


"^ ^ 

\ In^^^pJ 



\ \m I'^^n^LL 



II . 

f IrlL^W s^ 




World's Sweet-heart. 

To the tune of'-'- The Beggar Boy." 

[Richard Barnfield firft publifhcd his poem " The Encomion of 
Lady Pecunia" in 1598, (again in 1605) and fhe is mentioned by the 
fame name in the following ballad, which touches humoroufly upon 
topics Barnfield had treated more ferioufly. The copy we have followed 
was " Printed at London for Thomas Lambert, at the figne of the 
Horfhoo in Smithfield" about the year 1630 ; but it moft lilcely made 
its original appearance before 1 600. The following couplet is added 
to the old title, preceding the information of the tune to which the 
ballad was to be fung : — 

" Whereby is fhewed, that Miftris iMoney 
Is the world's Sweet-heart and Honey." 

There is we believe, a copy in the Pepyfian Library at Cambridge, of 
a later date and without thefe lines.] 

WEET Miftris Money, I here will declare 
thy beauty, which every one adoreth, 
The lofty gallant and beggar fo bare 

Tome help and comfort from theeimplor- 
For thou art become the World's Sweet-heart, [eth ; 

while every one doth make thee their honey. 
And loath they are from thee to depart, 

fo well they doe love fweet Miflris Money. 

8 The World's Sweet-heart. 

Money is that which all men obey, 

the wealthy rich mifer doteth upon it. 
He puts her to trading until fuch a day, 

and is very careful in parting from it : 
It joyes him to fee a great heap of wealth, 

and Lady Pecunia is his deare honey. 
While he is content for to ftarve himfelfe, 

even for the love of Miftris Money. 

The Citty of London doth take great care 

to gaine her favour by fome new fafliion. 
And for her fake they will give you fuch ware, 

as there is not better in any nation : 
For every one's heart is now fet upon her, 

and file is become their onely deare honey ; 
Wherever fhe goes her fteps they doe honour, 

fo well they doe love fweet Miftris Money. 

Though Money's complexion be very white, 

yet I doe thinke there was never yet any 
Could equall her beauty which is fo bright, 

fo that fhe hath friends and lovers many : 
Each one will lend her a helping hand 

to carry abroad their deareft honey. 
And they will be ready at her command, 

even for the love of Miftris Money. 

Your country men to the market will goe 
with corne, and fuch other like provifion. 

And to procure Money fometimes, you do know, 
they will fell it off upon any condition : 

To cure their hearts of forrow and care 

the favour of coyne is as fweete as honey, 

And they are glad to fell off their ware, 
even for the love of Miftris Money. 

The fhepheard, that lyeth abroad in the field 

and never careth for wind or weather. 
Doth hope that his fheepe fome profit will yeeld, 

which makes him to keepe them all together ; 
For he will lit on the fide of a rock, 

or elfe lye upon a greene banke that is funny. 
And there he will keepe his poore little fiock, 

even for the love of Miftris Money. 

In city, in country, and every place 

tis Money that is fo much refpecfled. 
For fhe can never receive difgrace, 

fince many devifes are ll:ill projecfted 
By thofe that feeke her favour to gaine, 

and make her their onely delight and honey ; 
For they will refufe no labour and paine, 

in hope for to get Sweet Miftris Money. 

I thinke the world fhall come to an end 
before that Money fhall be defpifed. 

For in every corner flie hath a clofe friend, 
and by every one fhe is highly prifed. 

lo The World's Sweet-heart. 

In every country, where ever you ride, 

the favour of coyne is as fweete as the honey. 

And all the inns on the roade doe provide 
to entertaine fweete Miftris Money. 

Now Cupid may lay by his quiver and bow, 

whereby fometime love was procured. 
Since now to marry they are very flow, 

unleiTe that a portion may be affured ; 
For that doth carry their fancy away, 

fo that young men doe make it their honey. 
And many a wedding, without all delay, 

is made up for the love of Miftris Money. 

Mark where you doe come, and you fhall ftill find, 

that for your Money you fhall be attended : 
My hoil: and my hofteife will be very kind ; 

but when that your filver and coin is fpended. 
Faith, then you may goe with much grief and woe, 

becaufe you have parted from your deare honey ; 
For that refpecfl which to you they did fhow 

was for the love of Miftris Money. 

At Rome the priefts doe make her a faint, 
who cheat the people by fond delufion ; 

And if that you no money doe want, 

you fhall for your fins have an abfolution: 

Thus in forraine countries, where ever you goe, 
this Mammon is counted their onely honey. 

The World's Sweet-heart. 

And unto you much klndncile they'll Ihow, 
even for the love of Miftris Money. 

The feaman likewife will travaile abroad, 

in llorms and in tempefts his heart ne're faileth, 
Untill w^ith commodities he be w^ell ftor'd, 

and then through the ocean he lufhily faileth. 
He cares not if that he meet with fome blowes, 

for he fo efteemeth his deareft honey, 
That he fpreadeth his fayls and away he goes, 

and fometimes he bringeth home gold and Money. 

Thus all mens affeftions are equally bent 

to Money, which maketh them full of mettle. 
And when they doe want it they are difcontent, 

becaufe their love on it they doe fettle : 
Yet I would not have you to fet your heart 

on worldly treafure, to make it your honey. 
But to buy this ditty before you depart, 

if that you doe love fweet Miflris Money. 


Chriftmas' Lamentation. 

To the tune of^'- Now the Spring is come." 

[This fingular ballad is unqueftionably as old as the reign of Eliza- 
beth : " yellow ftarch," which is mentioned, and would feem on fome 
accounts to fix it in that of James I., was in fafhion fome time before the 
death of his predeceflbr on the throne. It is a bold and ftriking re- 
proof of the decay of hofpitality, efpecially at Chriftmas, and we are 
aware of no other produ61:ion of precifely the fame kind and charailer. 
The full title in the only copy known is, " Chriftmas' Lamentation for 
the lofte of his acquaintance; {bowing how he is forft to leave the 
Country, and come to London." It was " printed at London for F. C. 
dwelling in the old Bayly," F. C. being Francis Coles, who publifhed 
many broadfides of a comparatively late date, and various reprints of 
much older ballads, among which laft the following is to be placed.] 

HRISTMAS is my name, farre have I gone. 
Have I gone, have I gone, have I gone, 
without regard. 
Whereas great men by flockes there be flowne. 
There be flown, there be flown, there be flowne, 

to London-ward ; 
Where they in pomp and pleafure doe wafle 
That which Chriftmas was wonted to feaft, 
Welladay ! 

Chriftmas' Lamentation. 

Houfes where muficke was wont for to ring 
Nothing but batts and howlets doe fing. 
Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay ! 
where fhould I flay ? 

Chriftmas beefe and bread is turn'd into ftones, 
Into ftones, into ftones, into flones, 

and filken rags ; 
And Ladie Money lleepes and makes moanes, 
And makes moanes, and makes moanes, and makes 
in mifers bags : [moanes, 

Houfes where pleafures once did abound. 
Nought but a dogge and a fliepheard is found, 

Welladay ! 
Places where Chriflmas revells did keepe 
Are now become habitations for fheepe. 
Welladay! Welladay! Welladay! 
where fhould I ftay ? 

Pan, the fliepheards god, doth deface. 
Doth deface, doth deface, doth deface. 

Lady Ceres crowne. 
And tillage that doth goe to decay, 
To decay, to decay, to decay : 

in every towne. 
Landlords their rents fo highly inhance. 
That Pierce, the plow-man, bare foot may dance ; 

Welladay ! 


14 Chriftmas' Lamentation. 

And farmers, that Chriflmas would entertaine, 
Have fcarce wherewith themfelves to maintaine. 
Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay! 
where fhould I fbay ? 

Come to the country man, he will protefl. 
Will proteft, will proteft, will protefl, 
and of bull beefe bofte ; 
And for the citizen he is fo hot. 
Is fo hot, is fo hot, is fo hot, 

he will burne the rofte. 
The courtier he good deeds will not fcorne. 
Nor will he fee poore Chriftmas forlorne : 

Welladay ! 
Since none of thefe good deeds will doe, 
Chriflmas had befl turn courtier too. 
Welladay! Welladay! Welladay! 
where fhould I flay ? 

Pride and luxury they doe devoure. 
Doe devoure, doe devoure, doe devoure, 

houfe-keeping quite ; 
And beggery that doth beget. 
Doth beget, doth beget, doth beget, 

in many a knight. 
Madam, forfooth, in her coach mufl wheele. 
Although fhe weare her hofe out at heele, 


Chriftmas' Lamentation. 

And on her back weare that for a weed, 
Which me and all my fellowes would feed. 
Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay ! 
where fliould I ftay ? 

Since pride came up with the yellow ftarch, 
Yellow ftarch, yellow ftarch, yellow ftarch, 

poore folkes doe want, 
And nothing the rich men will to them give. 
To them give, to them give, to them give, 

but doe them taunt ; 
For Charity from the country is fled. 
And in her place hath nought left but need ; 

Welladay ! 
And corne is growne to fo high a price. 
It makes poore men cry with weeping eyes. 
Welladay! Welladay! Welladay! 
where fliould I ftay ? 

Briefely for to end, here I doe find, 
I doe find, I doe find, I doe find, 

fo great vacation. 
That mofl great houfes feem to attaine. 
To attaine, to attaine, to attaine, 

a ftrong purgation : 
Where purging pills fuch effecfls they have fliewed. 
That forth of doores their owners have fpewed ; 
Welladay ! 


Chriftmas' Lamentation. 

And whereas Chriftmas comes by and calls. 
Nought but folitary and naked walls. 
Welladay! Welladay ! Welladay ! 
where fhall I ftay ? 

Philemon's cottage was turn'd into gold. 
Into gold, into gold, into gold, 

for harbouring Jove : 
Rich men their houfes for to keepe. 
For to keepe, for to keepe, for to keepe, 

might their greatnelTe move ; 
But in the city they fay they doe live. 
Where gold by handfulls away they doe give 

He away. 
And thether therefore I purpofe to paffe. 
Hoping at London to finde the golden afle. 
He away. He away. He away, 
for here's no ftay. 

I 7 


Gentleman in Thracia. 

'To the tune of " Chevy Chace." 

[This, like many others, is a ballad without date, but no doubt it was 
written late in the fixteenth, or early in the feventeenth centurj'' : it has 
no name nor initials at the end, but the ftyle, excepting that it is a little 
too profaic, is very like that of Thomas Deloney, who was a prolific 
ballad writer of that period. The romantic ftory may have been a mere 
invention, or the author may have found it, as he ftates, in fome " an- 
cient chronicle." The full title of the broadfide is this, " A pleafant 
Hiftory of a Gentleman in Thracia, which had foure Sonnes, and three 
of them none of his own : (hewing how miraculoufly the true heire 
came to enjoy his Inheritance." It was " Printed at London for H. 
G." H. G. being of courfe Henry GofTon, who, we mav prefume, 
was fome relation to the celebrated Stephen Gofion, rector of St. Bd- 
tolph, Bifhopgate, the adjoining parifli to that in which the bookfeller's 
family feems at one time to have refided.] 

N fearching ancient chronicles 
it was my chance to iinde 
A ftory worth the writing but, 
in my conceit and mind : 
It is an admonition good 

that children ought to have, 



The Gentleman in Thracia. 

With reverence for to thinke upon 

their parents laid in grave. 

In Thracia liv'd a gentleman 

of noble progeny, 

Who rul'd his houfhold with great fame. 

and true integrity : 

This gentleman did take to wife 

a neat and gallant dame. 

Whofe outward fhew and beauty bright 

did many hearts inflame. 

The lufter that came from her lookes. 

her carriage and her grace. 

Like beauteous Cynthia did outfhine 

each lady in that place ; 

And being pufl^ed up in pride. 

with eafe and jollity. 

Her hufband could not her content. 

fhe other men mufl try. 

Lafcivioufly long time fhe liv'd. 

yet bore it cunningly ; 

For fhe had thofe that watch'd fo well. 

that he could nought efpy : 

With bribes and gifts fhe fo bewitch'd 

the hearts of fome were neere. 

That they conceal'd her wickednefTe, 

and kept it from her deare. 

The Gentleman in Thracia. 

Thus fpending of her time away 

in extreme wantonneire. 
Her private friends, when Ihe did plealc, 

unto her had accefTe ; 
But the all-feeing eye of heaven 

fuch finnes will not conceale. 
And by fome meanes at laft will he 

the truth of all reveale. 

Upon a time fore ficke fhe fell, 

yea to the very death, 
And her phyfician told her plaine 

flie muft religne her breath : 
Divines did likewife vilit her, 

and holy counfell gave. 
And bade her call upon the Lord, 

that He her foule might fave. 

Amongfl the reft flie did defire 

they would her hufband bring : 
I have a fecret to reveale 

(file faid) my heart doth fting. 
Then he came porting prefently 

unto her where ihe lay. 
And weeping then he did defire 

what flie to him would fay. 

She did intreat that all might voyd 
the roome, and he would llay. 



The Gentleman in Thracia. 

Your pardon, hufband, I befeech. 

unto him fhe did fay, 

For I have wrong'd your marriage bed 

and plaid the wanton wife : 

To you the truth I will reveale 

ere I depart this life. 

Foure hopefuU fonnes you think you have, 

To me it befl: is knowne. 

And three of them are none of yours ; 

of foure but one's your owne. 

And by your felfe on me begot. 

which hath a wanton beene. 

Thefe dying teares forgiveneffe beg ; 

let mercy then be feene. 

This ftrooke her hufband in a dump. 

his heart was almofl: dead ; 

But rouzing of his fpirits up 

thefe words to her he faid. • 

I doe forgive thee with my heart. 

fo thou the truth wilt tell 

Which of the foure is my owne fonne. 

and all things fhall be well. 

O, pardon me, my hufband deare ! 

unto him flie did fay. 

They are my children every one : 

and fo file went away. 

The Gentleman in Thracia. 


Away he goes with heavy heart ; 

his griefes lie did conceale 
And Hke a wife and prudent man 

to none did it reveale. 

Not knowing which to be his owne, 

each of his love did fhare. 
And to be train'd in vertues paths 

of them he had a care : 
In learning great and gentle grace 

they were brought up and taught ; 
Such deare affection in the hearts 

of parents God hath wrought. 

They now were growne to mens eftates, 

and liv'd moft gallantly ; 
Each had his horfe, his hawke, his hound, 

and did their manhood try. 
The ancient man did joy thereat, 

but yet he did not know 
Which was his fonne amongft the foure ; 

that bred in him much woe. 

At length his glalTe of life was run, 

the fates doe fo decree ; 
For poore and rich they all muft dye, 

and death will take no fee. 
Unto fome judges he did fend, 

and counfell that were grave, 


The Gentleman in Thracia. 

Who prefently to him did come 
to know what he would have. 

They coming then to his beds fide, 

unto them he did fay : 
I know you all to be my friends, 

moil faithfull every way ; 
And now, before I leave the world, 

I beg this at your hands. 
To have a care which of my fonnes 

fhall have my goods and lands. 

And to them all he did relate 

what things his wife had done. 
There is but one amongft the foure 

that is my native fonne ; 
And to your judgement I commit, 

when I am laid in grave. 
Which is my fonne, and which is fit 

my lands and goods to have. 

He dying, they in councill fate 

what befh were to be done. 
For 'twas a taike of great import 

to judge which was his fonne. 
The brothers likewife were at ftrife, 

which {hould the living have. 
When as the ancient man was dead, 

and buried in his grave. 

The Gentleman in Thracia. 

The judges muft decide the caufe, 

and thus they did decree, 
The dead man's body up to take 

and tye it to a tree : 
A bow each brother he muft have, 

and eke an arrow take. 
To fhoot at their dead fathers corps, 

as if he were a ftake. 

And he whofe arrow neareft hit 

his heart, as he did ftand. 
They'd judge him for to be right heire, 

and fit to have the land. 
On this they all did ftraight agree. 

And to the field they went : 
Each had a man his lliaft to beare, 

and bow already bent. 

Now (quoth the judges) try your fkill 

upon your father there. 
That we may quickly know who ihall 

unto the land be heire. 
The eldeft tooke his bow in hand, 

and fhaft, where as he flood. 
Which pierc'd fo deep the dead mans brefi, 

that it did run with blood. 

The fecond brother then mufi: fhoot, 
who ftraight did take his aime. 



The Gentleman in Thracia. 

And with his arrow made a wound. 

that blood came from the fame. 

The third Hkewife mufi; try his {kill 

the matter to decide. 

Whofe fliaft did make a wound moft deep 

into the dead man's fide. 

Unto the fourth and youngeft, then. 

a bow and fhaft were brought. 

Who faid, D'ee thinke that ere my heart 

could harbour fuch a thought, 

To fhoot at my dear father's heart. 

although that he be dead. 

For all the kingdomes in the world 

that farre and wide are fpread ? 

And turning of him round about. 

the teares ran downe amaine : 

He flung his bow upon the ground. 

and broke his fhaft in twaine. 

The judges feeing his remorfe. 

they then concluded all 

He was the right ; the other three 

they were unnaturall. 


And fo he ftraight pofTefl the lands. 

being made the heire of all, 


The Gentleman m Thracia. 

And heaven by nature in this kind 

unto his heart did call. 
His brothers they did envy him, 

but yet he need not care, 
And of his wealth, in portions large, 

unto them he did Ihare. 



Ragged, and Torne, and True. 

To the Tune of Old Simon the King." 

[This capital old ballad, we may conje6lure from internal evidence, 
was first publifhed while Elizabeth was ftill on the throne : the broad- 
fide we have ufed was " Printed for the Aflignes of Thomas Symcocke" 
who in the reign of James I. had a patent for publications occupying 
only " one fide" of paper or parchment (" Hift. Engl. Dram. Poetry 
and the Stage," III. 383). Symcocke granted deputations to others, 
and by one of his " afligns" the prefent impreflion of an older produc- 
tion was put forth.] 

AM a poore man, God knowes, 
and all my neighbours can tell, 
I want both money and clothes, 
and yet I live wondrous well : 
I have a contented mind, 

and a heart to beare out all. 
Though fortune (being unkind) 

hath given me fubftance fmall. 
Then hang up forrow and care, 
it never fhall make me rue ; 
What though my backe goes bare, 
I 'me ragged, and tome, and true. 

I fcorne to live by the fhift, 

or by any finifter dealing ; 
He flatter no man for a gift, 

nor will I get money by flealing : 

Ragged, and Torne, and True. 

He be no knight of the poft 

to fell my foule for a bribe. 
Though all my fortunes be croft, 

yet I fcorne the cheaters tribe. 
Then hang up forrow and care, 

it never fliall make me rue ; 
What though my cloake be thred-bare, 

Vme ragged, and tome, and true. 

A boote of Spanifli leather 

I have feene fet faft in the ftockes, 
Expofed to wind and weather, 

and foul reproach and mocks. 
While I in my poore ragges 

can pafTe at liberty ftill : 
O, fie on thefe brawling bragges, 

when money is gotten fo ill ! 
O, fie on thefe pilfering knaves ! 

I fcorne to be of that crue. 
They fteale to make themfelves brave ; 

Vme ragged, and tome, and true. 


I have feene a gallant goe by 

with all his wealth on his backe. 

He look't as loftily 

as one that did nothing lacke ; 

And yet he hath no meanes 

but what he gets by the fword, 

2 8 Ragged, and Torne, and True. 

Which he confumes on queanes, 
for it thrives not, take my word. 

O, fie on thefe high-way thieves ! 
the gallowes will be their due : 

Though my doublet be rent i'th' fleeves, 
Vme ragged, and tome, and true. 

Some do themfelves maintaine 

with playing at cards and dice : 
O, fie on that lawlefTe gaine 

got by fiich wicked vice ! 
They coozen poore countrey-men 

with their delufions vilde. 
Yet it happens now and then 

that they are themfelves beguilde ; 
For if they be caught in a fnare 

the pillory claimes its due. 
Though my jerkin be worne and bare, 

I'tne ragged, and tome, and true. 

I have feene fome gallants brave 

up Holborne ride in a cart. 
Which fight much forrow gave 

to every tender heart : 
Then have I faid to my felfe, 

what pity is it for this. 
That any man for pelfe 

Ihould do fuch a foule amifi"e. 

Ragged, and Torne, and True. 

O, fie on deceit and theft ! 

it makes men at the laft rue ; 
Though I have but little left, 

Ime ragged, and torney and true. 

The pick-pockets in a throng, 

at a market or a faire. 
Will try whofe purfe is ftrong, 

that they may the money fhare ; 
But if they are caught i'th' adtion, 

they are carried away in difgrace. 
Either to the Houfe of Corrediion, 

or elfe to a worfer place. 
O, fie on thefe pilfering theeves ! 

the gallowes will be their due : 
What need I fue for repreeves? 

hne ragged, and tome, and true. 

The hoftler, to maintaine 

himfelfe with money in's purfe, 
Approves the proverbe true, 

and fayes, Gramercy horfe : 
He robs the travelling beaft, 

that cannot divulge his ill ; 
He fleales a whole handfull at leafl: 

from every halfe peck he fhould fill. 
O, fie on thefe coozening fcabs, 

that rob the poore jades of their due ! 


30 Ragged, and Torne, and True. 

I fcorne all theeves and drabs, 
Ime ragged, and tome, and true. 

Tis good to be honeft and juft, 

though a man be never fo poore ; 
Falfe dealers are ftill in miftruft, 

th'are afraid of the officers doore : 
Their confcience doth them accufe, 

and they quake at the noife of a bufh. 
While he that doth no man abufe 

for the law needs not care a ruih. 
Then welfare the man that can fay, 

I pay every man his due : 
Although I go poore in array, 
Ime ragged, and tome, and true. 


Complaint of King James, 

who was flaync at Flodden Ficldc, 
anno 1 5 1 3 . 

[This piece, not ftriclly fpealcing a ballad, is in the form and fpirit 
of that ancient popular work, " The Mirror for Mao;ifl;rates," Ulpian 
Fulwell originally'printed it in his " Flower of Fame," 1575, 4to. where 
the title ftands thus: — " The lamentable complaint of King James of 
Scotland, who was flayne at Scottifh flelde," meaning, of courfe, Flod- 
den Field. The work was " Imprinted at London in Fleete Streate, 
at the Temple gate by William Hofkins."] 

MONG the reft whom rewfull fate hath reft, 
Whofe ilirouding iheetes have wrapt their 

woful lyves. 
Why have not I a place among them left, 
Whofe fall eche tong with dayly talke revives ? 
Such is the wheele that fro ward Fortune drives ; 
To day a king of puifance and might. 
And in one howre a wofull wretched wicrht. 


A happie life by happie end is tride, 

A wretched race by wofull ende is known : 

Though pleafant wind the fliip do rightly guyde, 

3 2 The Complaint of King James. 

At laft by rage of ftormes tis over throwne : 
The greateft oke with tempeft is fyrfl blowne. 
Though Fortune feeme a loft to hoyfe thy fayle. 
Yet Fortune ofte tymes fmyles to fmall avayle. 

I thought my bower buylt on happie foyle. 
Which under propped was with tickle ftaye ; 

fudden. Wherfore on fodayne chaunce I tooke the foyle. 
In hope for to have had a noble praye. 
In fearch whereof I reapt my fatall daye. 
With fhamefull death my fame was fordie to bow ; 

reward. A gwcrdou mectc for breach of facred vow. 

A Prince his promife ought not to be broke. 
Much more his othe of ryght obfervde fliould be ; 
But greedie gayne doth oft the mynde provoke 
To breake both othe and vowe, as feemes by mee : 
Ambition blearde myne eyes, I coulde not fee. 
I fynde though man with man his faith forgoe. 
Yet man with God may not [in deede] do fo. 

I was a king, my power was not fmall ; 
I ware the crowne to wield the Scottifli land ; 
I raignde and rewlde, the greater was my fall : 
The myght of God no kingdome can withftand. 
An Earle wan of mee the upper hande ; 
With blodie fworde my lucklefTe lyfe to ende 
By fhamefull death, without tyme to amende. 

The Complaint of King James. 

Such was the force of Atrop's cruell fpight, 

Unlooked for to cut my fatall lyne. 

My wretched carcas then was brought in fight 

Through London ftreets, wherat the Scots repine : 

The endles fhame of this mifliap is myne. 

Like butchers ware on horfebacke was I brought : 

The King of Kinges for me this end hath wrought. 

Let Princes all by me example take 

What daunger tis to dally in fuch cafe ; 

By perjurye their faythes for to forfake, 

Leaft feate of fliame Ihall be their endles place : 

Foule infamie fhall their renowne deface. 

Of falfed faith fuch is deferved hyre. 

And he mufl falle that will too hyghe afpyre. 

Ye noble Peeres, whofe lives with myne did end, 
Send forth from graves your griefly ghofts ech one, 
To wayle the chaunce that Fortune us did fende : 
Let all the Scots powre out their plaints and mono, 
That we to hedles hafte were apt and prone ; 
Which rafh beginning, voyde of Godly awe. 
Had lyke fuccelTe for breach of facred lawe. 

I thought that Englande had beene far too weake 
For my ftrong powre, when Henry was away. 
Which made mee light regarde my vow to breake ; 
But yet I founde they were left in good ilay, 


34 The Complaint of King James. 

With force and ftrength to purchafe my decay. 
Thus my afpiring minde had guerdon due. 
Which may a myrror bee for men to vewe : 

Whereby to fhun the breach of facred vow. 
And not to feeke a lawleiTe meanes to raygne. 
For right will force urfurpcd rule to bow. 
And reape repulfe in fteade of noble gaine. 
Thus truth in tyme doth turne her foe to paine. 
And God him felfe doth fhield the rightfull caufe : 
Then, let men learne to lyve within his lawes. 

Ulpian Fulwell. 


The Devil and the Scold. 

To the Tune of " The Seminary Prleft." 

[This is certainly an early ballad : the allufion, in the fecond 
ftanza, to Tom Thumb and Robin Goodfellow (whofe " Mad Pranks" 
had been publifhed before 1588, with the wood-cut which follows the 
ballad) is highly curious, and one proof of its antiquity, although it has 
reached us only in an imprefTion " Printed at London for Henry GoiTon, 
dwelling upon London Bridge, neare to the Gate." Befides the head- 
ing, the following couplet forms part of the title : — 

'' A pleafant new Ballad you here may behold, 

How the Devill, though fubtle, was gul'd by a fcold."] 

IVE eare, my loving countrey-men 
that ftill delire newes. 
Nor pafTe not while you heare it fung, 
or elfe the long perufe ; 
For ere you heare it I mull tell 

my newes it is not common ; 
But He unfold a truth betwixt 
a Devill and a woman. 

Tom Thumb is not my fubjedt, 

whom Fairies oft did aide, 
Nor that mad fpirit Robin, 

that plagues both wife and maid ; 


The Devil and the Scold, 


Nor is my fong fatyricke like, 
invented againft no man, 

But onely of a pranke betwixt 
a Devill and a woman. 

Then, widdowes wives and maids 

give eare as well as men. 
And by this woman learne 

to gull the world agen : 
You may by this turn artifts, 

or mailers of your art. 
And when the Devill comes for you 

you need care nothing for't. 

A woman well in yeares 

liv'd with a hufband kinde. 
Who had a great delire 

to live content in minde ; 
But 'twas a thing impoffible 

to compafs his defire. 
For night and day with fcolding 

fhe did her hufband tire. 

With, roughifli lowtilh clowne! 

defpite thee He be wilde ; 
Doeft thou think I marryed thee 

to ufe thee like a childe. 
And fet thee on my lap, 

or humour what you fpeake ? 

The Devil and the Scold, 


Before He be fo fond 

thy very heart lie breake. 

Why, loving wife, quoth he. 

He never doe thee wrong. 
So thoul't be rul'd by me, 

and onely hold thy tongue ; 
And when I come from worke 

wilt pleafe at board and bed: 
Doe this, my loving wife, 

and take all, being dead. 

Marke well, quoth fhe, my words, 

what ere you fpeake me to. 
By faire meanes or by foule, 

the contrary He doe. 
According to her fpeech 

this man led fuch a life. 
That oft he wifh't the Devill 

to come and fetch his wife. 

Had he bid her goe homely, 

why then Ihe would goe brave ; 

Had he cal'd her good wife, 

fhe cal'd him rogue and flave ; 

Bade he, wife, goe to church, 
and take the faireft pew, 

Shee'd goe unto an alehoufe 

and drinke, lye downe and fpew. 




38 The Devil and the Scold, 

The Devill, being merry 

with laughing at this mirth. 
Would needs from hell come trotting 

to fetch her from the earth ; 
And coming like a horfe 

did tell this man his minde. 
Saying, fet her but ailride my backe. 

He hurry her through the winde. 

Kinde Devill, quoth the man, 

if thou a while wilt wait. 
He bid her doe that thing 

fhall make her backe thee ftraight : 
And here He make a vow, 

for all fhe is my wife. 
He never fend for her againe, 

Whileft I have breath or life. 

Content, the Devill cry'd : 

then to his wife goes he ; 
Good wife, goe leade that horfe 

fo blacke and faire you fee. 
Goe leade, lir knave ! quoth fhe, 

and wherefore not goe ride ? 
She tooke the Devill by the reines, 

and up fhe goes aflride. 

The Devill neighed loud, 

and threw his heeles i'th'ayre : 

The Devil and the Scold. 

Kick in the Devills name ! quoth fhe, 

a fhrew doth never fear. 
Away to hell he went 

with this moft wicked fcold, 
But fhe did curbe him with the bit, 

and would not lofe her hold. 

The more he cry'd. Give way, 

the more fhe kept him in. 
And kickt him fo with both her heeles, 

that both his fides were thin. 
Alight, the Devill cry'd, 

and quicke the bridle loofe : 
No, I will ride (quoth fhe) 

whiles thou hafl breath or fhoes. 

Again fhe kickt and prickt, 

and fate fo (iiff and well. 
The Devill was not fo plagu'd 

a hundred yeares in hell. 
For pity light (quoth he) 

thou put'ft me to much paine : 
I will not light (quoth flie) 

till I come home againe. 

The Devill fhewd her all 

the paines within that place. 

And told her that they were 
ordain'd for fcolds fo bale. 


40 The Devil and the Scold. 

Being bereft of breath, 

for fcolding 'tis my due ; 

But whileft I live on earth. 
He be reveng'd on you. 

Then did fhe draw her knife, 

and gave his eare a flit : 
The Devill never felt 

the like from mortall yet. 
So, fearing further danger, 

he to his heeles did take. 
And fafter then he came 

he pofl: hafte home did make. 

Here take her (quoth the Devill) 

to keep her here be bold. 
For hell w^ill not be troubled 

vv^ith fuch an earthly fcold. 
When I come home I may 

to all my fellowes tell, 
I loft my labour, and my bloud, 

to bring a fcold to hell. 

The man half dead did ftand, 
away the Devill hyde : 

Then fince the world nor hell 
can well a fcold abide. 

To make a faile of fhips 

let hufbands fall to worke. 

The Devil and the Scold. 

And give their free confents 
to fend them to the Turke. 

Then, honefl wives and maides, 

and widdowes of each fort. 
Might live in peace and reft 

and Silence keep her court : 
Nor would I have a fcold 

one penny here beftow. 
But, honeft men and wives, 

buy thefe before you goe. 




Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp. 

[Thomas Churchyard, the author of the fubfequent fatire, for it is 
only a ballad in appearance, began writing in the reign of Edward VI. 
and did not ceafe until James I. had afcended the throne : his many 
worldly difappointments gave a colour to nearly all he wrote, and what 
follows is ftrongly tinged with mifanthropy. It was compofed in coup- 
lets, but the printer of the broadfide (no name Is attached to our copy, 
and perhaps it has been accidentally cut off) thought fit to give it the 
appearance of ftanzas. There feems to have been another impreflion, 
" Imprinted at London by Thomas Colwell for Nicolas Wyer," a 
copy of which was in the coUedlion of the late Mr. Heber.J 

^N Court, fome fay, doth freindihyp flowe. 
And fome to Court for freindfhyp goe. 
But I that walke the worlde aboute 
Could never yet fynde freyndfhyp out; 
For fyneneffe fhewes fo fayre a face. 
That freyndfhyp hath no dwellynge place. 

Yea, depe dyfTemblynge manners mylde 
Hath fayth and freindfhyp both exylde. 
The holowe harte is fowle and fell, 
Wheare freyndfhyp loketh now to dwell : 
The humble fpeche and Syrenes fonge 
Hath fhrouded freyndfhyp over longe. 

The Lamentacion of Freyndlhyp. 


The wylye wordes that wave wyth wynde 
Hath brought true frendfliyp out of myndc ; 
And, to be fhorte, fayre wordes is all 
The fruite that from the tree dothe fall. 
Wordes welde the worlde, and beare the fwayc, 
And freindfhyp daylye doth decaye. 

Yet durfte I make of it reporte. 
It is amonge the meaner forte 
If any faythe or freindfhyp bee ; 
But I fo lytle freindfhyp fee, 
I feare the vertue of the fame 
Confyftes but in a gentle name. 

The worlde is waxen now fo nyce 

That we have learnd the Frenche devyce. 

At your commaundement, for a fhowe. 

And meane no farther for to goe : 

We are as free of promyfe ftyll. 

As though we mente a great good wyll ; 

And brave it out for gloryes fake, 
And much adoe therof we make. 
To blafe abrode our bountye great. 
Tufh, man ! the fyre hath loft his heate ; 
The flame yeldes furthe but fparkles fmall, 
Theare is no freyndiliyp now at all. 

Geve eare, and heare a pretye jeft. 
Theare was a man (at my requeft) 



The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp, 




That feemd an earneft freinde in dede. 
And fwore he wolde fupplye my nede 
Wyth all hys helpe he could devyfe ; 
And ofte to blere his ladyes eyes. 

And make her know hys lyberall mynde, 
(For women larges love of kynde) 
He promyft many a goodlye gyfte ; 
But when I put hym to hys fhyfte 
For quycke performaunce of this geare. 
Then backwarde gan he for to fweare 

Eche worde had paft hys mouth before. 
I pray you now, if we had fhore 
Of fuch good freinds when nede ihuld cum, 
Myght not a pore man ftryke hys drum 
Before theyr dores wyth chereful fprete. 
And founde a marche in open flrete 

A thoufand tymes amidfte hys greefe, 
Or he fhould fynde thearby releefe ^ 
Fyve hundred of fuch mates as theafe 
(Whofe freyndfhyp is not worth a peafe, 
Whofe bravery fhynes beyonde the funne. 
Yet flypper laddes when all is done) 

My hap hath bene to mete or thys. 
Beware, I fay, the Judas kyfTe, 
The flyrynge face, the parate gaye, 
The bablynge tongue that hath no ftaye. 

The Lamentacion of Freyndlhyp. 45 

The fawner fyne that croutcheth lowe. 
The plyant head that bendes lyke bowe, 

Whofe nature lykes not freindfliyp's lawe, 
The gloryous man, the pratynge dawe. 
Tut, tut ! I warne thee overfoone, 
Ful longe hath nede to be the fpoone 
A man fliould have for every feate, 
That wyth the dyvell thynkes to eate : 

For dyvels in thefe dayes are ryfe, 
And thou muft nedes leade out thy lyfe 
Wyth depe dylTemblers every wayes. 
The dyvels are much more to prayfe. 
Then muffled men that myfcheife breede. 
Who are not knowen but by theyr deede. 

Oh frendfliyp ! thou art much myfufed 

To be wyth freindes thus abufed ; 

For freyndfhyp fhould wyth open face 

Be feene and fek in every place : 

Of playnenefTe firil was freyndfhyp wrought, 

Juft as the Gods, and pure of thought. 

Full free and franke, as lordes have byn. 

Full bent the peoples hartes to wynne ; 

Full glad to fyll the nedye hande, 

Full iirme of worde, and fure to ftande. 

As oke that every ftorme wyl byde. 

Not loft with want, nor wonne wyth pryde, 

4^ The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp. 

And welthy pompe, the pumpe of fynne. 

That bryngeth every myfcheife in ; 

But alwayes cleare from falfehedde's trayne. 

Then, tell me now, and do not fayne. 

Where does that freindfhyp buylde his bowre ? 

Where is fuch freinfhyp had this howre ? 

Where maketh he now hys manfyon place ? 
Or where (good Lord !) hath men fuch grace 
To lyght upon fo great a blilTe ? 
Mans mynde and nature altered is : 
The worlde in wyckednefTe is drounde. 
And, trulye, freindfhyp is unfounde. 

And rotten lyke corrupted fruite. 
noife. Though gloryous men wyll beare a brute 

Of freindes, theyr freyndfhyp is fo colde 
That we therof have ly tie holde : 
When it fhould ferve our turne (God knowes) 
We reape the weede and plant the rofe. 

We gape for golde, and grype but glaffe. 
Now do fuch wordes of offyce palTe 
Tweene all eftates, bothe farre and nere. 
That talke is nought but fayned chere. 
To make fayre weather for a whyle, 
Tyl one the other do beguyle. 

I tell thee, man, who playes the parte 
Of wylye fox muft lerne thys arte : 

The Lamentacion of Freyndfhyp. 47 

They are no linall byrdcs (as I geffc) 
If I in authors maye exprefTe 
The fynnes that now be kept in ftore, 
That put in pradlyfe this and more. 

To compalTe cloked freindfhyp fyne. 

The fowler never drawes hys lyne 

So ftrayght upon the felye fowle. 

Nor fure the byas of the bowle 

Goeth not fo flrayghte on mayfter blocke. 

As dayly dothe thys dallyenge flocke 

Upon the polycye of the brayne. 

To brynge the felye foole to trayne. 

Men are fo ufed thefe dayes wyth wordes. 

They take them but for jeftes and boordes, jokes. 

That Chriftmas Lordes were wonte to fpekc. 

Well, well, I fay the worlde is weke. 

And weker it is lyke to bee, 
When credyte out of the worlde fliall flye ; 
When truft is gone, and trothe is dead, 
And faythfull freyndfhyp hydes hys head. 
And wordes are helpe of none effecfle. 
And promyfe faythfull is fufpedle. 

Farewell ! all earthly hope is part. 
I fee our maners change fo faft. 
And fuche affeftion leades our wyll 
Awry to fickle freindfhyp ftyll. 

48 The Lamentacion of Freyndftiyp. 

That fure true freindfhyp fylent fyttes. 
And nought beares rule but wylye wyttes, 

Unfhamefafte wayes, and meare deceyte 
For playnenefTe, fuch a pleafante bayte 
As choketh up both hye and lowe, 
And poyfoneth all the worlde, I trowe. 
Wherfore, fynce freyndfhyp takes hys leave, 
And fynenelTe dothe us all deceyve. 

Let freyndfhyppes name be banyfhed quyte ; 
For fure it is a great dyfpyte 
To fpeke of freindfhyp any tyme. 
To make of freindfhyp profe or ryme. 
Or gyve to freyndfhyp anye prayfe, 
Tnat is fo fruteleffe in our dayes. 

T. Churchyard. 


Mock-Begger's Hall. 

To the tune of'-'- It is not your Northern Nanny," cr "Sweet is the L;l^^ 

that loves me." 

[This ballad is a ver)' amufing and clever fatire on many change- 
for the worfe, about the period it feeins to have been written — the be- 
ginning of the feventcenth century. The full title is " Mock-Begger's 
Hall, with his fituation in the fpacious countr)' called Anywhere ; " 
and we have been obliged (from the exiftence of no other, excepting a 
ftill more modern reprint,) to ufe a copy publifhed, during the civil wars : 
it purports to have been " Printed for Richard Harper, at the Bible 
and Harp, in Smithfield." The wood-cut at the end is a reprefenta- 
tion of Tarlton, the comedian, who was fo popular before 1588, when 
he died. If the entry in the regifter of St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, ap- 
ply to him, as no doubt it does, his nam.e has never been accurately 
fpelt in the quotations of it : it there ftands Richard Torrelton ; and it 
is remarkable that he was buried on the \er}' day his will bears date, 
September 3. We may conclude perhaps that he died of the plague. 
There was a wood-cut of Tarlton, playing upon his pipe and tabor, as 
early as 1590, no doubt fimilar to that we have inferted,and not unfre- 
quently found at the head of old ballads.] 

J? N ancient times, when as plain dealing 
Was moft of all in falliion. 
There was not then half fo much ftealing, 
Nor men fo given to palTion ; 
But now a days truth fo decays. 
And falfe knaves there are plenty, 
So pride exceeds all worthy deeds, 
While Mock-bcgger Hall Jiands empty. 



Mock-begger's Hall. 

The hangman now the fafhion keeps. 
And fwaggers like our gallants ; 
While love and charity fits and weeps. 
To fee them wafte their talents ; 
Spend all their flore untill no more. 
Such prodigals there are plenty. 
Thus brave it out, while men them flout, 
And Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 

Ned Swafh hath fetched his cloaths from pawn. 

With dropping of the barrell ; 

Joan Duft hath bought a fmock of lawn. 

And now begins to quarrell : 

She thinks herfelfe, poor lilly elfe. 

To be the befl: of twenty. 

And yet her fcore is wondrous poor. 

While Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 

I read in ancient times of yore. 
That men of worthy calling 
Built almes houfes and fpittles flore. 
Which now are all down falling ; 
And few men feek them to repair. 
Nor none is there among twenty 
That for good deeds will take any care, 
While Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 

Farm houfes which their fathers built, 
And land well kept by tillage. 

Mock-bego;er's Hall. 


Their prodigal Tons have fold for gilt 

In every town and village. 

To the city and court they do refort, 

With gold and filver plenty ; 

And there they fpend their time in fport. 

While Mock-he ggcr Hall [lands efnpty. 

Young landlords, when to age they come, 
Their rents they would be racking ; 
The tenant mufh give a golden fum, 
Or elfe he is turn'd packing : 
Great fines, and double rent befide, 
Or elfe they'l not content be : 
It is for to maintain their monftrous pride. 
While Mock-begger Hall Jlands empty. 

Their fathers went in homely freez, 
And wore good plain cloth breeches ; 
Their ftockings with the lame agrees. 
Sowed on with good ftrong ftitches : 
They were not then called gentlemen. 
Though they had wealth great plenty ; 
Now every gull's grown worlhipfull, 
While Mock-begger Hall Jlands empty. 

No gold nor filver parchment lace 
Was worn but by our Nobles ; 
Nor would the honell harmlefs face 
Wear cuffs with fo many doubles. 



Mock-begger's Hall. 

Their bands were to their fhirts fown then. 
Yet cloth was full as plenty ; 
Now one hand hath more cloth than ten, 
While Mock-be gger Hall Jiands empty. 

Now we are apes in imitation, 

The more indeed's the pity ; 

The city follows the ftranger's fafhion. 

The country followes the city : 

And ere one fafhion is known throughout. 

Another they will invent ye ; 

'Tis all your gallants fludy about. 

While Mock-begger Hall Jiands empty. 

Methinks it is a great reproach 

To thofe that are nobly defcended. 

When for their pleafures they cannot have a coach 

Wherewith they might be attended ; 

But every beggerly Jack and Gill, 

That eat fcant a good meal in twenty, 

Muft through the ftreets be jaunted ftill. 

While Mock-begger Hall Jiands e?npty. 

There's fome are rattled thorough the ftreets, 

Probatum ejl, I tell it, 

Whofe names are wrapt in parchment fheets ; 

It grieves their hearts to fpell it : 

They are not able two men to keep. 

With a coachman they muft content be. 

Mock-bew^r's Hall. 


Which at play-houle doore in's box lies aflccp, 
While Mock-be gger Hall jl amis empty. 

Our gentlewomen, whofe means is nothing 

To that which they make fhow of, 

Muft ufe all the fafhions in their cloathing. 

Which they can hear or know of : 

They take fuch care themfelves to deck. 

That money is oft fo fcanty. 

The belly is forc'd to complain to the back. 

While Mock-begger Hall Jlands e??ipty. 

There is a crue, and a very mad crue. 

That about the town doth fwagger. 

That feem like Knights to the people's view. 

And wear both fword and dagger. 

That fweeten their cloaths once a v/eek ; 

Hunger with them is lb plenty. 

The broker will not have them to leek. 

While Mock-begger Hall Jlands ejnpty. 

Some gentlemen and citizens have. 

In divers eminent places, 

Erecfted houfes fine and brave. 

Which flood for the owners' graces. 

Let any poor to fuch a door 

Come, they exped:ing plenty. 

They there may ail: till their throats are fore. 

For Mock-begger Hall Jlands empty. 


Mock-begger's Hall. 

Thus plainly I to you declare 
How ftrangely times are changed ; 
What humors in the people are. 

How vertue is eftranged : 
How every jackanapes can ftrut. 
Such coxcombs there are plenty ; 

But at the lafl in the prifon iliut. 

So Mock-begger Hall Jlands empty. 


■ ^^ 





M. ^ 



Larum Bell for London. 

[The name of the author of the following produ(5tion — John Carre — 
is new in the hiftory of our poetry, although it may be thought that 
he does not add much to its claims to admiration : his ftanzas, however, 
contain a remarkable exhortation again ft the prevailing vices of the me- 
tropolis at an early date, for the colophon of a work in which they ap- 
peared is, "Imprinted at London, by Henry Kirkham, 1573." The 
broadfide has no date, but may be even older.] 

OR thee, O London! I lament. 

And wring my hands with mourning 
Becaufe that thou wilt not repent, 

Seyng thy deftrucflion draweth nere. 
If it be true as Scriptures tell, 
Thy fynnes will lincke thee doune to hell. 

The vices whiche in thee are ufed. 
Too tedious are for me to tell : 

Thy noble fame is fore abufed, 

By thofe whiche in thee now doe dwell ; 

Whereby I fee thy great decaie. 

That God doth threaten thee eche daie. 

56 A Larum Bell for London. 

The vice of pride hath tane fuche place. 
That it can not be rooted out ; 

And hath continued fo long fpace. 

That of Gods ire thou haft no doubt : 

And fuche a place pride doeth fupplie, 

That from thee it will never flie. 

For like a weede it up doeth fpryng, 
It is not fet nor fowen at all ; 

The whiche good herbes and fruid:es will bryng. 
Ere they be ripe, unto a fall. 

To cut it doune it is no boote, 

Except you cleane plucke up the roote. 

For where this weede doth fpring and grow. 
Good fruidies can not there profper well, 

Becaufe that cruelnefte fo doeth flowe. 

That vertuous herbes it doeth excell : 

Whiche weede we maie compare to pride. 

That caufeth vertue awaie to Hide. 

So likewife pride in London now 

Doeth florifhe in fuche goodly forte. 

That they invent whiche waie and how 
Thereby augmented it might be; 

And nothyng doe regarde at all. 

That pride in the ende will have a fall. 

Confider well that pride hath been 
The fall of many cities greate. 

A Larum Bell for London. 

And Sodom foncke for fuche like fynne, 

As lacred Scriptures dooth repete ; 
Gomorrha eke came to decaie, 
Becaufe that pride did beare the fwaie. 

And Alexandria in like cace, 

Whiche was a citie flrong and greate ; 
Pride would not let them purchafe grace. 

Nor yet for mercie would intreate : 
Becaufe that pride fo muche did flowe. 
It was deftroied, and lies full lowe. 

And Ninivie like caufe I iinde, 

In the ende for pride was cleane deftroied. 
For pride fo muche did puffe their minde, 

That God was cleane forgot and voide: 
In pride fo much they did delite, 
That God the fame deftroied quite. 

Jerufalem, that citie ftrong. 

Pride would not let them God to knowe. 
In whiche pride they continued long. 

As Jofephus the fame doeth fhowe ; 
Till Titus did deftroie the fame, 
And did accufe their pride with Ihame. 

Enfample take by noble Troie ; 

The like for pride was never fene : 
With warres the Greekes did it deftroie, 

Bothe wall and houfe they threwe doune clene 


58 A Larum Bell for London. 

Becaufe that pride did beare the fwaie. 
It came to ruine and decaie. 

Therefore, O London ! now take heede. 
For thou waft called Troie fometyme. 

That fuche decaie doeth not procede 
For to revenge of pride the crime : 

Therefore repent, from pride refraine. 

Left, as Troie did, thou feele fome paine. 

For God doeth threaten thy greate fall. 
By fignes and tokens many waies. 

The whiche unto thee happen fhall 

Shortly, Chrift faieth, and in fewe daies. 

Therefore his power divine to pleafe 

Repent, his ire thou fhalt appeafe. 

O London! thou hafl: caufe to weepe. 
For to conlider thyne eftate : 

Thou art in fynne now drownde fo deepe. 

That from hell mouthe thou canft not fcape : 

Except repentance thou embrace. 

At God's hande thou fhalt finde no grace. 

To pra6tife pride thou doeft delight, 
foolifh And fonde devifes for to gaine, 

Whiche is efteemed all in God's fight 
A thing moft frivolous and vaine : 
Yet thou doeft feke the fame to ufe, 
Whiche doeth thy noble fame abufe. 

A Larum Bell for London. 


Let this a reformation be 

For thee, that thou in time repent. 
Whereby thou mightft have grace to flee 

From pride, the Lorde's will to content. 
Revolve in mynde what happen fliall. 
For pride in the ende fhall have a fall. 

John Carre. 

The Bride's Good -morrow. 

To a pleafant new Tune. 

[This is a peculiar, but a pleafing ballad, tinged with a puritanical 
fpirit, and unqueftionably of an early date, though, as we learn at the 
end of it, "Printed by the Aflignes of Thomas Symcocke," of whom 
we have before fpoken (p. 26). The domeftic ceremonials, preceding 
a marriage, near the end of the reign of Elizabeth, are delicately touched, 
and afford a not uninterefting illuftration of the manners of the time. 
The lines near the clofe, 

*' With fweet rofemary in their hand, 
a perfect token of your virgin's life," 

(hew why that herb was of old employed as an emblem at weddings, 
and afford a particular explanation of a paffage in " Pericles." A6I: iv. 
Sc. 6. The exclamation " Good morrow, Miftris Bride ! " is found, as 
a quotation, in more than one play of the time of Shakefpeare, with 
other allufions to this ballad.] 

HE night is pafled, and joyfull day appeareth 

moft cleare on every fide. 
With pleafant mufick we therefore falute you: 
good morrow, Miftris Bride ! 
From lleepe and flumber now wake you out of hand, 

your Bridegroome ftayeth at home, 
Whofe fancy, favour and affed:ion ftill doth ftand 

fixed on thee alone. 
Drefi^e you in your beft array ; 
This muft be your wedding day. 

The Bride's Good-morrow. 


God almighty fend you happy joy ! 
In health and wealth to keep you ftill. 
And, if it be his bleifed will, 

God keepe you fafe from forrow and annoy. 

This day is honour now brought into thy bofomc, 

and comfort to thy heart ; 
For God hath fent you a friend for to defend you 

from forrow care and fmart. 
In health and ficknes, for thy comfort day and night 

he is appointed and brought, 
Whofe love and liking is moft conftant fure and right: 

then, love him as ye ought. 
Now you have your hearts delire 
And the thing you did require. 

God almighty fend you happy joy ! 
In health and wealth to keepe you ftill. 
And, if it be his bleffed will, 

God keepe you fafe from forrow and annoy. 

There is no treafure the which may be compared 

unto a faithfull friend: 
Gold foone decayeth, and worldly wealth confumeth, 

and wafteth in the winde ; 
But love once planted in a perfed: and pure minde 

indureth weale and woe : 
The frownes of fortune, come they never fo unkinde, 

cannot the fame overthrowe. 


The Bride's Good-morrow. 

A bit of bread is better cheare. 

Where love and friendship doth appeare, 

then dainty difhes ftufFed full of ftrife ; 
For where the heart is cloyd with care. 
Sower is the fweeteft fare. 

And death far better then fo bad a life. 

Sweet Bride, then may you full well contented ftay you, 

and in your heart rejoyce, 
Sith God was guider both of your heart and fancy, 

and maker of your choice : 
And he that preferd you to this happie ftate 

will not behold you decay. 
Nor fee you lacke reliefe or helpe in any rate, 

if you his precepts obey. 
To thofe that aflc it faithfully 
The Lord will no good thing deny ; 

this comfort in the Scriptures you may finde : 
Then, let no worldly griefe and care 
Vexe your heart with foule difpaire. 

Which doth declare the unbelieving minde. 

All things are ready, and every whit prepared, 

to beare you company ; 
Your friends and parents doe give their due attendance 

together courteoufly. 
The houfe is dreft and garnifht for your fake 

with flowers gallant and green : 

The Bride's Good-morrow. 


A folem feaft your comely cooks do ready make 

where all your friends will be feen. 
Youngmen and maids do ready ftand. 
With fweet rofemary in their hand, 

a perfect token of your virgin's life : 
To wait upon you they intend 
Unto the Church to make an end. 

And God make thee a joyfull wedded wife ! 



The Soldier's Repentance. 

To an excellent new Tune^ called " Calino." 

[This ballad has neither printer's name (which is unufual) nor date 
(which is commonly omitted) but we may feel fure that it was written 
about the middle of the reign of Elizabeth. The Irifh tune to which 
it was to be fung, was employed as early as 1584, in Clement Robin- 
fon's " HandfuU of Pleafant Delights ; " and Piftol ufes it in Shakes- 
peare's " Henry V.," though Malone, Steevens, &c. were at fault about 
it (See CoUier's Shakefpeare, iv. 543)- The ballad was fuppofed 
to be fung regarding fome worthy foldier, who perhaps had returned 
poor and wounded from the wars in the Low Countries : it is much in 
the fpirit of Barnaby Rich, but it is too good for his verfification. The 
full title in the original broadfide is fomewhat long : — "A pleafant fong 
made by a Soldier, whofe bringing up had been dainty, and partly by 
thofe affe6lions of his unbridled youth is now beaten with his own rod ; 
and therefore termed his Repentance, or the Fall of Folly."] 

'N fummer time, when Phoebus rayes 
Did cheer each mortall mans deHght, 
Increaling of the cheerfull dayes. 
And cutting of the darkfome night : 

When nature brought foorth every thing 
By juft return of Aprill fhowers. 
To make the pleafant branches fpring 
With fundry forts of herbs and flowers. 

The Soldier's Repentance. 65 

It was my chance to walk abroad 
To view dame Natures new come brood: 
The pretty birds did lay on load 
With fugred tunes in every wood. 

The gallant nightingale did fet 
Her fpeckled breft againfl a bryer, 
Whofe mournfull tunes bewail (as yet) 
Her brother Tereus falfe delire. 

The ferpents having caft their coats 
Lay liflning how the birds did fing; 
The pretty birds with fugred notes 
Did welcome in the pleafant fpring. 

I drew me to the green-wood lide 
To hear this country harmony. 
Whereas er'e long I had efpy'd 
A wofull man in mifery. 

He lay alone upon the ground, 
And to the heavens he caft his eye : 
The bordering hills and dales refound 
The echoes of his piteous cry. 

He wailing fore and fighing faid, 
O heavens, what endlelTe grief have I ! 
Why are my forrows thus delaid ? 
Come therefore. Death, and let me die. 


^^ The Soldier's Repentance. 

When Nature iirft had made my frame. 
And fet me loofe when fhe had done. 
Steps Fortune in, that fickle dame. 
To end what Nature had begun. 

She fet my feet upon her knee. 
And bleft my tender age with ftore; 
But, in the end, fhe did agree 
To mar what fhe had done before. 

I could no fooner creep alone. 
But fhe forfook her foflered child : 
I had no lands to live upon, 
♦ But trac'd abroad the world fo wild. 

At length I fell in company 

With gallant youths of Mars his train : 

I fpent my life in jeopardy. 

And got my labour for my pain. 

I watched on the fieged walls. 
In thunder lightning rain and fnow. 
And oft being fhot with powdred balls, 
Whofe coftly markes are yet to fhow. 

When all my kindred took their refl 
At home in many a ftately bed. 
The ground and pavement was my nefl. 
My flafk a pillow for my head. 

The Soldier's Repentance. 

My meat was fuch as I could find, 
Of roots and herbs of fundry fort. 
Which did content my hungry mind. 
Although my commons were but fhort. 

My powder ferv'd to fait my meat. 
My murrion for a gilded cup ; 
Whereas fuch drink as I could get 
In fpring or ditch, I drank it up. 

My rapier always by my fide. 

My piece lay charged with match and light. 

Thus many a month I did abide. 

To ward all day, and watch by night. 

I lived in this glorious vein, 
Untill my limbs grew fliff and lame ; 
And thus I got me home again. 
Regarding no fuch cofi:ly fame. 

When I came home I made a proof 
What friends would do, if need fliould be : 
My neareft kinsfolk lookt aloof. 
As though they had forgotten me. 

And as the owl by chattering charmes 
Is wondred at by other birds. 
So they came wondring at my harms. 
And yeeld me no relief but words. 




The Soldier's Repentance. 

Thus do I want, while they have ftore. 

That am their equall every way. 

Though Fortune lent them fomewhat more. 

Elfe I had been as good as they. 

Come, gentle Death, and end my grief. 

Ye pretty birds ring forth my knell : 

Let Robin Red-breafl be the chief 

To bury me, and fo farewell. 

Let no good fouldier be difmaid 

To fight in field with courage bold ; 

Yet mark the words that I have faid. 

Truft not to friends when thou art old. 




Widow of Watling Street. 


To the Tune of"^ Bragandary." 

[This ballad, in two parts, and to two different tunes, was entered 
for publication on the books of the Stationers Company by Richard 
Jones on 15th Aug. 1597, which with fufficient exactnefs afcertains 
its date. It was extremely popular, and muft have been often re- 
printed : our impreflion is made from a reprint, no copy of the oldeft 
edition being now known, and all others being of extreme rarity. 
Malone could not obtain a fight of it, and fuppofed that it was the 
foundation of the play called " Ihe Puritan, or the Widow of Watling 
Street," firfl printed in 1607, and attributed to Shakefpeare in the folio of 
1664, but in reality by Wentworth (not William, as Malone gives it, 
Suppl. ii. 534,) Smith, whofe name occurs in Henflowe's " Diarv," 
printed by the Shakefpeare Society\ The fact is, that the ballad has no 
fort of connexion with the play, beyond the title, which perhaps was 
adopted by the dramatift on account of its popularity. The copy we 
have ufed was " Printed for Fr. Cowles," who omitted the burden 
after the firft ftanza.] 

F the kind Widdow of Watling ftreet 

I will the flory tell, 
Who by her hufband deere was left 
in fubftance very well. 
A prodigall fonne likewife had (he, 
And faire young daughters lovely three. 


70 The Widow of Wading Street. 

Great mifery^ forrow and miferyy 
Commethfor want of grace. 

For by his daily pradlifes, 

which were both lewd and ill. 

His father's heart from him was drawne, 
his love and his good will : 

But what chance fo ere befell. 

His mother lov'd him dearely well. 

When in prifon he lay full poore 

for debt that he did owe. 
His father would not ftirre out of doore 

for to releafe his woe ; 
But when his mother his griefe did fee, 
Shee found the meanes to fet him free. 

And when her hufband fell full Hcke, 
and went to make his will, 

hufband! remember your fon, fhe fayd, 
although he hath beene ill ; 

But yet, no doubt, he may returne. 
Repenting the evill he hath done. 

Remember, wife, what forrow and care 

through him I daily found. 
Who through his lewd ungracious deedes 

hath fpent me many a pound ; 
And, therefore, let him linke or fwim, 

1 meane not for to deale with him. 

The Widow of Watling Street. 

And, therefore, fole Executor heere 

I doe thee onely make. 
To pay my debts and legacies ; 

the refl unto thee take. 
Not fo, my hufband deare, quoth fhe, 
But let your fonne be joyn'd with me. 

For why he is our child, fhe fayd, 

we can it not denie. 
The firfl that ever graced you 

with father's dignitie : 
Oh ! that ever you did me love. 
Grant this requefl for his behove. 

Thy love, deare wife, was evermore 

moft pretious unto me ; 
And, therefore, for thy fweet love's fake, 

I grant thy fuit to thee ; 
But ere one yeare be fully fpent, 
I know thou wilt the fame repent. 

Now was his sonne received home, 

and with his mother deare 
Was joyn'd Executor of the will, 

which did his courage cheere. 
The old man dying buried was : 
And now behold what came to palTe. 

The funerall being ended quite, 
it fell upon a day. 


72 The Widow of Wading Street. 

Some friend did fetch the Widdow forth, 

to drive conceits away : 
While fhe was forth, and thought no ill. 
Her wicked fonne doth worke his will. 

PofTeffion of the houfe he took 

in moft defpitefull wife. 
Throwing his fifters out of doore 

with fad lamenting cryes. 
When this they did his mother fhow. 
She would not believe he would do fo. 

But when fhe came unto her houfe, 

and found it fo indeede. 
She cald unto her fonne and faid, 

although her heart did bleede. 
Come downe, my fonne, come downe, faid fhe ; 
Let in thy mother and fifters three. 

I will not let in my mother, he faid, 

nor fiflers any one ; 
The houfe is mine, I will it keepe ; 

Therefore, away, begone ! 
O fonne ! how canfl thou endure to fee't 
Thy mother and fiflers to lye i'th' ftreet ? 

Did not thy father by his will, 

for tearme of this my life. 
Give me this houfe for to enjoy, 

without all further flrife ? 

The Widow of Watlino- Street. 


And more, of all his goods, laid fliee, 
I am Executor joyn'd with thee. 

My father left you the houfe, he faid, 

but this was his intent. 
That you therefore, during your life, 

fhould pay me yearely rent : 
An hundred pound a yeare therefore 
You fliall give me, or elfe give it o're. 

And fith the cittie's cuftom is. 

That you your thirds mufl have 

Of all my father's moveables, 
I grant what law doth crave ; 

But not a penny more will I 

Difcharge of any legacie. 

O wicked fonne! quoth fliee, that feekes 

thy mother thus to fleece. 
Thy father to his daughters gave 

three hundred pound a peece : 
Tell me, who Ihall their portions pay. 
Appointed at their marriage day ? 

Then with a fcornefull fmile he faid, 
what talke you of fo much ? 

Ten pounds a peece I will them give, 
my charity is fuch. 

Now fie upon thee, beaft! quoth ihe. 

That thus doft deale with them and me. 

74 The Widow of Watling Street. 

But ere that they and I will take 

this injurie at thy hand. 
The chiefeft peeres of England ihall 

the matter underftand. 
Nay, if you go to that, quoth he, 
Marke well what I fhall tell to thee. 

Thou haft a fecret harlot beene ; 

and this He prove full plaine. 
That in my father's lifetime didfl 

lewd ruffians entertaine ; 
The which did then beget of thee. 
In wicked fort, thefe baftards three. 

No daughters to my father, then, 

were they in any wife. 
As he fuppofed them to be. 

Thou blinding fo his eyes : 
Therefore, no right at all have they 
To any penny given this day. 

When fhee did heare her fhamelelle fonne 

for to defame her fo, 
Shee with her lovely daughters three 

with griefe away did goe. 
But how this matter out did fall 
The fecond part will fhew you all. 

Finis Part I. 

The Widow of Watlino- Street. 



To the Tune of The Wanton Wife." 

T^HE beautifull Widdow of Watling Street, 

Being thus falfely accufed by her fonne, 
With her three daughters of favour fo fweet, 
Whofe beauty the love of many had wonne, 
With her daughters three for fuccour went fhe 
Unto the King's Counfell of noble degree. 

Nowyjie upon faife hood and forger ie fraile ! 

For great is the truth, and it will prevaile. 

Her fonne by writ now fummoned is 

At the Star-chamber with fpeed to appeare. 

And anfwer the vile abufes of his ; 

The Lords of the Counfell the matter will heare. 

This newes being brought, his wits he fought, 

Which way his villany befl might be wrought. 

Then up and down the citie fo faire 

He feeketh companions to ferve his turne, 

A fort of vagabonds naked and bare. 

The which to worke murders for money are won. 

Thefe wretches, behold, for money and gold. 

He hired for witnefs, his lies to uphold. 

My mafters, quoth he, my mother by name 
To be a lewd ftrumpet accufed I have ; 

76 The Widow of Wading Street. 

And having no witnefTe to prove the fame. 
Your ayde and affiftance herein I doe crave : 
Therefore, w^ithout fear, before the Lords there. 
That this thing is certain you fixe fhall it fweare. 

The iirft two, quoth he, fhall fweare on a booke 
That fixteene yeares pail they plainely did fee. 
As they through the garden hedge fadly did looke. 
That fhe in one houre was abufed by three : 
And how it befell, they two mark'd it well. 
That juft nine months after fhe had her firfi: girle. 

The fecond couple fliall fweare in this fort ; 

That at Briftow, about thirteene yeares paft. 

She with her owne prentice did fall in fuch fport. 

That her fecond daughter was got at the laft. 

Now trufl us, quoth they, wee'le fweare what you fay. 

Or any thing elfe for money this day. 

And thus the third couple their oath now fhal take. 
That as at the Bath fhee flay'd on a day. 
For ach in the bones an excufe fhe did make. 
How fhee with a courtier the wanton did play ; 
And how, well you wot, in that pleafant plot 
Her deareft young daughter for certaine was got. 

But now, my maflers, your names let me know. 
That I may provide your apparell with fpeede 
Like fixe grave citizens, fo you muft goe ; 
The better your fpeeches the Nobles will heed. 


The Widow of Wading Street. 

So fliall I with fcorne, ere Saturday morne. 
Prove her a harlot, my fiilers bale borne. 

My name is Make-fliift, the firfl man did fay ; 
And Francis Light-finger, the fecond Hkewife ; 
Cuthbert Creepe-window, the third to difplay ; 
And Rowland Robman with foule ftaring eyes ; 
Jacke Shameleffe came then with Harry Steale-hen : 
You are, quoth the young man, fome right honefi: men. 

Before the Lords moft prudent and grave 
This wretch doth with his witneiTes come. 
The mother complaines, and juftice doth crave. 
Of all the offences that he hath her done. 
My Lords, then quoth he, I pray you heare me ; 
The law for my deeds my warrant fhall be. 

Her fonne fayd alfo, fhee's a harlot moH vilde. 
And thofe be her baftards that ftond here in place ; 
And that fhe hath often her body defilde. 
By very good witneffe He prove to her face. 
This thing of thy mother thou oughtefl to fmother : 
Tis fhame for a child to fpeake ill of his Mother. 

But if this matter be proved untrue. 

And thou a falfe lyar be found to thy face, 

Worfe than an infidel Pagan, or Jew, 

Thou ought'ft to be punifh'd and plagu'd in this cafe : 

And therefore draw neare, and let us heare 

What fays the witnefs that here doth appeare. 


7 8 The Widow of Watling Street. 

When the firft couple did come for to fweare. 
They quivered and quaked in moil wondrous fort : 
The Lords very countenance did put them in feare. 
And now they knew not what to report. 
The fecond Ukewife fo ftar'd with their eyes. 
They ftammered, and knew not what to devife. 

The Lords perceiving the cafe how it went. 
Did afke the laft couple what they had to fay, 
inftantly Who fell on their knees incontinent, 

Saying they were hired for money that day : 
Quoth they, it is fo ; the truth for to fhow, 
Againft the good Widdow no harme we doe know. 

Thus was the Widdow delivered from blame. 
With her three daughters of beauty mofl bright ; 
Her fonne reproached with forrow and fhame. 
Having his judgement appointed him right : 
For forfeit even all the goods he poffeft. 
To loofe both his eares, and banifht fo reft. 

When he heard his judgement pronounced to be. 
The tears full bitterly fell downe from his face ; 
To mother and fifters he kneeled on his knee, 
Confeffing that lucre had brought this difgrace : 
That for mine owne gaine I fought to detaine 
My fifters' three portions, this lie I did faine. 

Therefore, deare mother, forgiveneffe I crave 
Of you and my lifters, offended fo fore ; 

The Widow of Watlinor Street. 


My body from perill if you will but fave, 
I fweare I will grieve and offend you no more. 
The Lords then replide, the law juftly tride, 
The puniiliment now thou art like to abide. 

Therefore to prifon now thou fhalt goe. 

Whereas thou flialt the King's pleafure abide, 

From thence to be brought with fhame and with woe. 

To fuifer the punifhment due for thy pride. 

Then out of hand thou flialt underftand. 

That prefently thou fhalt be banifh'd the land. 

Now while in prifon this prifoner did reft, 
Himfelfe he hanged in defperate wife. 
Such horrour of confcience polfefed his breaft ; 
And, being caft forth, the ravens peckt out his eyes. 
All children behold, what truth hath been told : 
Accufe no man falfely for lucre of gold. 


Cupid's Courtefie: or 

The Young Gallant foird at his own Weapon. 

To a mojl pleafant " Northern Tune, ^c." 

[An early love-ballad, the date of which we cannot pretend to afcer- 
tain farther than that there exifts a manufcript copy of it, dated 1595 : 
the edition we have ufed has, as ufual, no year added to the imprint, 
which runs thus : — " London : Printed by and for W. O. for A. M. 
and fold by the Bookfellers." A mifprint occurs in the laft ftanza but 
four, where " which made him tremble " is given, inftead of " which 
made me tremble." The fecond ftanza would have afforded the Rev. 
Mr. Halpin (See Shakefpeare Society's Papers, ii. 14.) a very appofite 
illuftration for his charming eflay on the paflage ''runaway's eyes," 
&c. in "Romeo and Juliet," A61 iii. Sc. 2.] 

HRO' the cool fhady woods 

as I was ranging, 
I heard the pretty birds 
notes fweetly changing : 
Down by a meadow lide 

there runs a river ; 
A little boy I efpy'd 
with bow and quiver. 

Little boy, tell me why 
thou art here diving } 

Cupid's Courtefie. 


Art thou fome run-away, 
and haft no biding ? — 

I am no run-away ; 
Venus, my mother. 

She gave me leave to play 
when I came hither. 

Little boy, go with me, 

and be my fervant : 
I will take care to fee 

for thy preferment. — 
If I with thee fliould go, 

Venus would chide me. 
And take away my bow, 

and never abide me. 

Little boy, let me know 

what's thy name termed. 
That thou doft wear a bow, 

and go'ft fo armed ? — 
You may perceive the fame 

with often changing, 
Cupid it is my name ; 

I live by ranging. 

If Cupid be thy name, 
that fhoots at rovers, 

I have heard of thy fame 
by wounded lovers. 



Cupid's Courtefie. 

Should any languifh that 

are fet on fire 
By fuch a naked brat, 

I much admire. 

If thou doft but the leaft 

at my laws grumble, 
I'll pierce thy ftubborn breafl, 

and make thee humble : 
If I with golden dart 

wound thee but furely. 
There's no phyfitian's art 

that e'er can cure thee. 

Little boy, with thy bow 

why doft thou threaten ? 
It is not long ago 

fince thou was beaten. 
Thy wanton mother fair, 

Venus, will chide thee : 
When all thy arrows are gone, 

thou may'ft go hide thee. 

Of powerful fhafts, you fee, 

I am well ftored. 
Which makes my deity 

fo much adored : 
With one poor arrow now 

I'll make thee ihiver, 

Cupid's Courtefie. 



And bend unto my bow. 

and fear my quiver. 

Dear little Cupid, be 

courteous and kindly ; 

I know thou canft not hit, 

but fliooteft blindly. — 

Although thou cairft me blind, 

furely I'll hit thee. 


That thou Hialt quickly find ; 


I'll not forget thee. 

Then little Cupid caught 

his bow fo nimble, 


And fhot a fatal Ihaft 


which made him tremble. 


Go, tell thy miftrefs dear 

thou can'ft difcover 

What all the paffions are 

of a dying lover. 

And now his gallant heart 

forely was bleeding. 

And felt the greateft fmart 

from love proceeding : 

He did her help implore 

whom he affedted. 

But found that more and more 

him fhe rejedied. 


Cupid's Courtefie. 

For Cupid with his craft 

quickly had chofen. 

And with a leaden fhaft 

her heart had frozen ; 


Which cauf d this lover more 

fadly to languifh. 

And Cupid's aid implore. 

to heal his anguifh. 

He humble pardon crav'd 

for his offence paft. 
And vow'd himfelf a flave, 

and to love ftedfaft. 
His prayers fo ardent were, 

whilft his heart panted. 
That Cupid lent an ear, 

and his fuit granted. 

For by his prefent plaint 

he was regarded. 
And his adored faint 

his love rewarded. 
And now they live in joy 

fweetly imbracing. 
And left the little boy 

in the woods chafing. 



My Wife will be my Mailer. 

To the Tune of'-'' A Taylour is no man." 

[The full title of this "merry ballad"' in the broadfide is "My 
Wife will be my Aiafter ; or the Married-man's Complaint againft his 
unruly Wife, being a warning for all unmarried perfons to have efpe- 
ciall care in choofing their Maikc, left they meet with fuch a Myre- 
fnype as this poor man did." It has no printer's name nor date, but 
we may place it after 1600. Several obvious mifprints occur, fuch as 
Jhooes for " fhects" in the fecond line of the eighth flanza, and offend her 
is twice fubftituted for "diftafte her," which the rhyme requires. On 
this point it is to be obferved that " mafter " was of old pronounced 
and printed maijler^ and fuch may have been the cafe in the original 
edition of this ballad.] 

S I was walking forth of late, 

I heard a man complaining ; 
With that I drew me near to him, 
to know the caufe and meaning 
Of this his forrow, pain, and grief, 

which bred him fuch difafter : 
Alace ! quoth he, what fhall I do? 
my wife will be my mafter. 

If I fhould give her fourty pound 
within her apron folding, 


My Wife will be my Mafter. 

No longer then the telling on't 

her tongue leaves never fcolding : 

As ^fop's dog barkt at the moon. 

thinking for to diftafte her. 

So doth my w^ife fcold w^ithout caufe. 

and flrives to be my mafter. 

Were I fo ftrong as Hercules, 

or wifer then Apollo, 

Or had I Icarus wrings to flee. 

my wife would after follow ; 

Or fhould I live as many years 

as ever did King Neftor, 

Yet do I greatly ftand in fear 

my wife would be my mafter. 

I know no caufe nor reafon why 

that ftie with me ftiould jangle : 

I never gave her caufe at all 

to make her with me wrangle. 

I pleafe her ftill in what I may. 

and do no jot diftafte her. 

Yet ftie doth ftrive, both night and day. 

alwayes to be my mafter. 

I every morning make a fire. 

all which is done to eafe her. 

I get a nutmeg, make a toft. 

In hope therewith to pleafe her. 

My Wife will be my Mafter. 

With a cup of nappy ale and fpice, 

of which fhe is firfl tafter; 
And yet this crofs-grain'd quean will fcold, 

and firive to be my mall:er. 

I wafh the difhes, fweep the houfe, 

I drefs the wholefome dyet ; 
I humour her in every thing, 

becaufe I would be quyet. 
Of every feveral difli of meat 

fhe'l furely be firfl tafter. 
And I am glad to pick the bones, 

fhe is fo much my mafter. 

Sometimes Ihe'l fit while day be light 

in company with good fellowes. 
In taverns and in bowfmg tents, 

or in fome pimping ale-houfe ; 
And when fhe comes home drunk at night, 

though I do not diftafte her, 
She'l fling, ftie'l throw, flie'l fcratch, fhe'l bite, 

and ftrive to be my mafter. 

Her bed I make both foft and fine, 

and put on fheets compleatly ; 
Her fhooes and ftockings I pull off, 

and lay her down moft neatly : 
I cover her and keep her warm 

for fear I fhould diftafte her; 


88 My Wife will be my Mafter. 

I hug her kindly in my arme, 
yet flill fhe'l be my mafter. 

And when I am with her in bed, 

fhe doth not ufe me well, fir ; 
She'l wring my nofe and pull my ears, 

a pittiful tale to tell, fir ; 
And when I am with her in bed, 

not meaning to moleft her, 
She'l kick me out at the bed's feet, 

and fo become my mafter. 

And thus you hear how cruelly 

my wife doth ftill abufe me. 
At bed, at board, at noon, at night, 

ftie alwayes doth mifufe me ; 
But if I were a lufty man, 

and able for to bafte her. 
Then would I furely ufe a means, 

that ftie ftiould not be my mafter. 

You batchelours that fweet-hearts have, 

when as you are a wooing. 
Be fure you look before you leap, 

for fear of your undoing : 
The after wit is not the beft, 

and he that weds in hafte, fir. 
May like to me bewaile his cafe, 

if his wife do prove his mafter. 

My Wife will be my Mafter. 

You married men that have good wives, 

I pray you fet much by them, 
For they more precious are then gold, 

if once you come to try them : 
A good wife makes a hufband glad, 

then let him not diftafte her ; 
But a fcold will make a man run mad, 

if once fhe prove his mailer. 





Conftancy of True Love. 

To the tune of " Downe by a Forreft." 

[This ballad is, in the main incidents, the tale of Pyramus and Thifbe, 
told ferioufly, as in the " Midfummer Night's Dream" it is burlefqued. 
Dunftan Gale took the fame fubje6t, and his poem was printed in 1617, 
but there is little doubt that this ballad is older, and nearer the date 
which Gale gives to his dedication, viz. 1596 (fee the " Bridgewater 
Catalogue," p. 125). The word " mufled," in the line 

" And having mufled thus the fame," 

is ufed in the fenfe Shakefpeare employs " moufed" — *' Well moufed^ 
lion ;" from the Italian mufo^ the mouth or muzzle. The full title of 
the ballad is, " The Conftancy of True Love, or an excellent Relation 
of the untimely death of Tv/o Faithfull Lovers:" the imprint is, 
" Imprinted at London for Francis Coules, and are to be fould at his 
fhop in the Old-Bayly."] 

'N that faire fragrant month of May, 
When earth her curtaines doth difplay, 
I did by chance my corps repofe 
Upon a banke, where woods did clofe 
With greene and leafy bowres about; 
A place to fhunne the tedious rout 
Of Tibs and Toms : for this intent 
This flowrie feat I did frequent. 

The Conftancy of True Love. 

Nature had ftrove to fhew her featc 
In the compofure of this feat. 
For in a valley plaine was found 
This place by hills encircled round. 
Both lofty beech and cedars tall 
Did llielter this rich filvan hall : 

Here Satires and the Naiades, 

Here Silvans and the Driades. 

Here rurall gods and tripping nymphs 
Did bath their corps in the pure lymphs. 
And chriftall ftreams, which made a noife. 
In compaffing this place of joyes. 
No fairer place nor fountain found 
Dian, with golden treifes crown'd, 
And lady-guarded : in this feate 
The whiftling wind cool'd fummers heat. 

Here the nine Mufes ufde to dance. 
Here the kind Graces ufde to prance ; 
Here Phoebus his warbling harpe did tune 
The lifefome monthes of May and June : 
Here Philomel tun'd melody ; 
Hither the chirping birds did ily. 

Here thrufli and blackbird from their throats 
Strain'd divers fundry pleafant notes. 

Here the nymph Eccho in hollow ground 
Did the laft fyllable refound. 


92 The Conftancy of True Love. 

What harbour could the world fpare 
More trim, more neat, more fweet, more rare ? 
Here, as I fate muling alone. 
Me thought I heard one grieve and groane. 
Ah me, poore wretch ! this creature faid. 
Whereat my fenfes grew afraid. 

I ftarted, looking here and there. 
To view the fubjedl of this feare: 
A Lady, objed: to mine eyes, 
I found the efFed: of all thefe cryes. 
I hafted to enquire the caufe. 
Which did her weeping eyes amaze : 
Behold, quoth fhe, my love, (alas !) 
Whofe crimfon blood here dyes the gralTe. 

The fweeteft creature here lyeth dead. 

That famous Europe ever bred : 

I have my wronged lover flaine ; 

His death fhall be the death of twaine. — 

I praid her then for to relate 

The caufe of his untimely fate : 

She then, fcarce fetching of her breath, 
Beginnes the flory of his death. 

Blinde Cupid, quoth fhe, with his dart. 
In tender yeares did wound his heart. 
Made fubjed: to the love of me. 
An adlor in this tragedie. 

The Conftancy of True Love. 

His heart and mind, together tried. 

His love and mine together ti'ed. 

Our parents fought to crofTe our will. 
But we continued conftant ftill. 

Though time the difadvantage gave. 
As we no place for love could have. 
Yet ftill we fought to recompence 
Love with true love without offence. 
We dwelt in neighbouring houfes nie ; 
And getting conference thereby. 
We did appoint under this tree 
To meet, but difappointed bee. 

When bright Aurora peeped out. 
And Phcebus newly look'd about, 
I firft (according to my vow) 
Made hafte unto this plighted bough : 
Here, as I flayed for my love, 
Whofe comming over-late did prove, 
A lyon with inhumane pawes 
Came to that well to coole his jawes. 

His mouth was all with blood befmear'd. 
This inftrument of death I fear'd ; 
I fled to hide my felfe for feare. 
And left behind my mantle there. 
The lyon, having flak'd his thirft. 
Ran where I left my garment iirft ; 



The Conftancy of True Love. 

But when he faw no place for prey. 

He foul'd. with blood my liverie : 

And having mufled thus the fame. 

Thither he went whence iirfl he came ; 

But I knew not that hee was gone 

And therefore ftayd I hid, alone. 

In the meane time (Oh griefe !) came hee. 

Who promird had to meet with mee, 

And under this our plighted bough 

He fought performance of our vow. 

He found not mee, but found my coat 

All bloodied by the lyons throat; 

Which when he faw with bloud belayd. 

My ab fence made him fore afraid. 

What fhould he thinke, but that fome beaft 

Upon my carcaffe made his feafl ? 


He thought that the grim lyon's whelpe 

Devoured mee, being voyd of helpe. 

While hee thefe events thus did brooke, 

The inftrument of death he tooke. 

A naked fword, which by his lide 

Ready for combats he had tyed. — 

I have, quoth hee, wrought my loves death. 

The end of her fhall end my breath ; 

And thereupon thruft to the hilt 

His fword, and thus his blood he fpilt. 

The Conftancy of True Love. 

That the firft pafTenger might know, 
The difmall events of this woe, 
He wrote and pinn'd a note thereof 
Upon his hatt, to iliew the proofe ; 
Which I, being voyd of feare, at laft. 
And thinking all the danger pafl. 
Returning from that hideous bed. 
Whereto I from the lyon fled, 

I found the copie of his death. 

And his dead carcafl^e voyd of breath. 

No fobs, no fighes, no griefes, no groanes. 

No trickling teares, no mournfuU moanes. 

No ejaculations, no cries. 

No dolefuU dittie or elegies. 

Shall ferve for to bewaile his end. 
Which for my love his life did fpend. 

In life his love did mee purfue. 
But by his death he prov'd it true. 
If hee, then, for my fake did die. 
As much for him why fliould not I ? 
Since death hath us denied our right. 
Then friendly death fliall us unite; 
And I will follow him in hafte. 
Who thought he follow'd me being pafl. 

Thefe words alToone as iliee had fpoke, 
She gave her felfe a deadly ftroke : 


96 The Conftancy of True Love. 

Shee drew the fword out of his breaft 
And in her owne the fame fhee thruft ; 
And as in life their hearts were one. 
So are their lives together gone. 

In fpight of parents, time, and place. 
Fond love will runne his wiflied race. 

Thus have you heard a tragedy, 
Ad:ed by lovers conftancy : 
God fend fuch lovers better fpeed. 
Where fervency true love doth breed. 


Few Words are beft. 

To the Tune of '•'■ l\z tell you but lb." 

[A ballad, in its orio;inal fhape, probably of the latter part of the reign 
of Elizabeth, froin what is faid about enclofures, recufants, puritans, 
&c. Two of the ilanzas, the fixth and feventh, fecm to have a pecu- 
liar application to the life of Shakefpeare, and to the religious opinions 
of his father (fee the Shakefpeare Society's Papers, ii. 115). The droll 
fatire of the writer applies to nearly all callings and claffes, and he fpares 
no body. It was printed, like many other broadfides, " by the AfTignes 
of Thomas Symcocke," and, to the title, "Few Words are beft," the 
following diftich is added : — 

" Come buy this new ballad before you doe goc : 
If you raile at the Author, I know what I know."] 

T is an old faying 

that few words are beft. 
And he that fays little 
fliall live moft at reft; 
And I by experience 

doe finde it right fo, 
Therefore He fpare fpeech, 
but I know what I know. 

Yet you fhall peixeive well 

though little I fay, 
That many enormities 

I will difplay : 


Few Words are beft. 

You may guefTe my meaning 

by that which I fhow ; 

I will not tell all. 

but I know what I know. 

There be fome great climbers 

compof'd of ambition, 

To whom better-borne men 

doe bend with fubmiffion. 

Proud Lucifer climbing. 

was caft very low; 

He not ftay thefe men. 

but I know what I know. 

There be many foxes 

that goe on two legges. 

They fteale greater matters 

then cocks, hennes and egges : 

To catch many gulls 

in llieepes cloathing they goe ; 

They might be deftroy'd, 

but I know what I know. 

There be many men 

that devotion pretend. 

And make us beleeve 

that true faith they'le defend ; 

Three times in one day 

to church they will goe : 

Few Words arc bcft. 


They cozen the world. 

but I know what I know. 

There be many I'ieh men 

both yeomen and gentry, 

That for their owne private gaine 

hurt a whole countrey. 

By doling free commons, 

yet they'le make as though 

Twere for common good ; 

but I know what I know. 

There be divers Papifts 

that, to fave their fine. 

Come to church once a moneth 

to hear fervice divine. 

The Pope gives them power 

as they fay, to doe fo. 

They fave money by't too. 

but I know what I know. 

There be many upftarts 

that fpring from the cart. 

Who gotten to the Court 

play the gentleman's part : 

Their fathers were plaine men. 

they fcorne to be fo ; 

They thinke themfelves brave. 

but I know what I know. 


Few Words are beft. 

There be many officers, 

men of great place. 
To whom if one fue 

for their favour and grace. 
He muft bribe their fervants, 

while they make as though 
They know no fuch thing ; 

but I know what I know. 

There be many women 

that feeme very pure, 
A kiife from a flranger 

they'le hardly endure ; 
They are like Lucretia, 

modeft in fhow : 
I will accufe none, 

but I know what I know. 

Likewife there be many 

diflembling men. 
That feeme to hate drinking 

and wenching, yet when 
They meet with a wench 

to the taverne they'le goe : 
They are civill all day, 

but I know what I know. 

There be many batchelors 
that, to beguile 

Few Words are beft. 


Beleeving kind lafTes, 

ufe many a wile : 
They all Iweare that they love, 

when they meane nothing fo, 
And boaft of thofe trickes ; 

but I know what I know. 

There's many an ufurer 

that like a drone 
Doth idly live 

upon his money's lone : 
From tens unto hundreds 

his money doth grow ; 
He fayes he doth good, 

but I know what I know. 

There be many gallants 

that goe in gay rayment. 
For which the taylor 

did never receive payment : 
They ruffle it out 

with a gorgeous Ihow. 
Some take them for knights, 

but I know what I know. 

There be many rovers 

that fwagger and rore, 
As though they in the warres had been 

feven yeares and more ; 


Few Words are beft. 

And yet they never lookt 
in the face of a foe : 

They feeme gallant fparkes, 
but I know what I know. 

There's many, both women 

and men, that appeare 
With beautifull outiides. 

the world's eyes to bleare ; 

But all is not gold 

that doth glifter in fhow : 

They are fine with a fox, 
but I know what I know. 

There's many rich tradefmen 

who live by deceit. 

And in weight and meafure 

the poore they doe cheat : 

They'le not fweare an oath, 
but, indeed, I, and no. 

They truely proteft ; 

but I know what I know. 

There be many people 

fo given to ftrife. 
That they'le goe to law 

for a twopenny knife : 
The lawyers nere afke them 

why they doe fo ; 

Few Words are beft. 


They get by their hate, 

but I know what I know. 

I know where be many 

will carpe at this ballet. 

Becaufe it is like 

fowre fawce to their pallet ; 

But he, fliee, or they, 
let me tell ere I goe. 

[f they fpeake againft this long, 
I know what I know. 

The ^-^ wlieltstone 








Merchant's Daughter of Briftow. 

To the Tune of " The Maiden's Joy." 

[This narrative ballad, which is full of graceful but unadorned fim- 
plicity, is mentioned in Fletcher's "Monfieur Thomas," [A&. iii. Sc. 3.) 
by the name of "Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter." Two early edi- 
tions of it are known : one without printer's name, (clearly much 
older than the other) is that which we have ufed : we may conclude 
that it was written confiderably before James I. came to the throne. It 
was laft re-printed in 1738, but in that impreflion it was much modern- 
ized and corrupted.] 

EHOLD the touchftone of true love. 
Maudlin the Merchant's Daughter of Brif- 
tow towne, 
Whofe firme aifediion nothing could move; 
This favour beares the lovely browne. 

A gallant youth was dwelling by. 

Which many yeares had borne this lady great good will; 

Shee loved him fo faithfullv, 

But all her friends withftood it ftill. 

The young man nov/, perceiving well 

He could not get nor win the favour of her friends. 

The force of forrow to expell 

To view ftrange countreys hee intends. 

The Merchant's Dauo-htcr. 

And now, to take his laft farewell 

Of his true love, his faire and conftant Maudlen, 

With muficke fweete that did excell 

Hee plaies under her window then. 

Farewell (quoth he) mine owne true love. 
Farewell, my deare, and chiefeft treafure of my heart ! 
Through fortune's fpight, that falfe did prove, 
I am inforc'd from thee to part, 

Into the land of Italy: 

There wil I waile, and weary out my dayes in wo ; 

Seeing my true love is kept from mee, 

I hold my life a mortal fo. 

Faire Briftow towne, therefore, adieu, 
For Padua fhall bee my habitation now ; 
Although my love doth lodge in thee. 
To whom alone my heart I vow. 

With trickling teares this hee did fing, 

With lighs and fobs defcending from his heart full fore: 

Hee faid, when he his hands did wring. 

Farewell, fweet love, for evermore ! 

Fair Maudlin, from a window high 

Beholding her true love with muficke where hee flood, 

But not a word Ihe durft reply. 

Fearing her parents angry mood. 



The Merchant's Daughter. 

In teares fhe fpent this dolefull night, 
Wifhing (though naked) with her faithful! friend : 
She blames her friends, and fortune's fpight. 
That wrought their loves fuch lucklelTe end. 

And in her heart fhee made a vow 

Cleane to forfake her couDtry and her kinsfolkes all. 

And for to follow her true love. 

To bide all chance that might befall. 

The night is gone, and the day is come. 
And in the morning very early fhee did rife : 
She gets her downe in a lower roome. 
Where fundrie feamen fhe efpies. 

A gallant mafter amongft them all, 

(The mafter of a faire and goodlie fhip was he) 

Who there ftood waiting in the hall. 

To fpeake with her father, if it might be. 

She kindly takes him by the hand. 

Good fir (faid fhee) would you fpeake with any heere? 

Quoth he, faire maid, therefore I ftand : 

Then, gentle Sir, I pray you draw neere. 

Into a pleafant parlour by. 

With hand in hand fhe brings the feaman all alone ; 

Sighing to him moft piteoufly. 

She thus to him did make her moane. 

The Merchant's Daughter. 


Shee falls upon her tender knee : 

Good fir ({lie faid) now pittie you a woman's woe. 

And prove a faithfull friend to me. 

That I my griefe to you may fliew. 

Sith you repofe your truft, he faid, 

To me that am unknowne, and eke a ftranger heere, 

Be you aifur'd, moft proper maid. 

Moil: faithfull ftill I will appeare. 

I have a brother, then, quoth Ihee, 

Whom as my life I love and favour tenderlie : 

In Padua, alas ! is he. 

Full iicke, God wot, and like to die. 

And faine I would my brother fee. 

But that my father will not yeeld to let me goe ; 

Wherefore, good fir, be good to mee. 

And unto me this favour fhew. 

Some fliip-boye's garment bring to mee, 

That I difguird may goe away from hence unknowne ; 

And unto fea He goe with thee. 

If thus much favour may be fhowne. 

Faire maid (quoth he) take heere my hand : 
I will fulfill each thing that you defire. 
And fet you fafe in that fame land. 
And in that place that you require. 

io8 I The Merchant's Daughter. 

She gave him then a tender kilTe, 
And faith, your fervant, gallant mafter, will I be. 
And prove your faithfull friend for this. 
Sweet mafter, then, forget not me. 

This done, as they had both decreed, 
Soone after (early) before the breake of day. 
He brings her garments then with fpeed. 
Wherein fhe doth her felfe array: 

And ere her father did arife, 

Shee meets her mafter as he walkes in the hall : 

Shee did attend on him likewife. 

Even till her father did him call. 

But ere the Merchant made an end 
Of all the matters to the mafter he could fay. 
His wife came weeping in with fpeed. 
Saying, our daughter is gone away! 

The Merchant, thus amaz'd in mind, 

Yonder vile wretch intic'd away my child, quoth he ; 

But, well I wot, I fliall him find 

At Padua, in Italy. 

With that befpake the mailer brave : 
Worfhipfull mafter, thither goes this pretty youth, 
And any thing that you would have, 
He will performe it, and write the truth. 

The Aierchant's Dauorhtcr. 


Sweet youth (quoth hee) if it be lb, 

Beare me a letter to the EngUfli marchants there. 

And gold on thee I will beftow : 

My daughter's welfare I do feare. 

Her mother takes her by the hand ; 

Faire youth (qd fhe) if there thou doft my daughter fee, 

Let me thereof foone underftand, 

And there is twenty crownes for thee. 

Thus, through the daughter's flrangc difguife, 
The mother knew not when fhee fpake unto her child; 
And after her mafter ftraightway fhee hies. 
Taking her leave with countenance milde. 

Thus to the fea faire Maudlin is gone 

With her gentle mafter : God fend them a merry wind ; 

Where wee a while muft let them alone. 

Till you the fecond part doe find. 


Finis Part I. 


The Merchant's Daughter. 


To the fame Tune. 

WELCOME, fweete Maudlin, from the fea. 
Where bitter ftormes and tempefts doe arife : 
The plefant bankes of Italy 
Wee may behold with mortal eyes. 

Thankes, gentle mafler, then quoth fhee : 
A faithfull friend in forrow hafl thou beene ; 
If fortune once doth fmile on mee. 
My thankfuU heart fhall well bee feene. 

Blefl be the land that feedes my love ! 

Bleft be the place where as his perfon doth abide ! 

No triall will I fticke to prove. 

Whereby my true love may be tride. 

Nowe will I walke with joyful heart. 

To vie we the to wne where as my darlinge doth remaine. 

And feeke him out in every part, 

Untill I doe his fight attaine. 

And I, quoth he, will not forfake 

Sweete Maudlin in her forrow up and downe : 

In wealth and woe thy part He take. 

And bring thee fafe to Padua towne. 

The Merchant's Daughter. 

And after many wearie fteps 
In Padua they fafely doe arrive at laft : 
For very joy her heart it leapes ; 
She thinkes not of her forrow^es paft. 

Condemned to dye hee was, alas ! 
Except he would from his religion turne ; 
But rather then hee would to malTe, 
In iiery flames he vow'd to burne. 

Now doth Maudlin weepe and waile : 

Her joy is chang'd to weeping, forrow, griefe and care; 

But nothing could her plaints prevaile. 

For death alone muft be his (hare. 

Shee walkes under the prifon walls. 

Where her true love doth lye and languifh in diftrefle; 

Moft wofully for foode he calls. 

When hunger did his heart opprefl^e. 

He lighs and fobs and makes great moane : 
Farewell, hee faid, fweete England, now for evermore. 
And all my friends that have me knowne 
In Briftow towne with wealth and ftore. 

But moft of all farewell, quoth hee. 

My owne true love,fweet Maudlin, whom I left behind; 

For never more fhall I fee thee. 

Woe to thy father moft unkind ! 

I I I 


The Merchant's Daughter. 

How well were I, if thou wert here. 

With thy faire hands to clofe thefe wretched eyes : 

My torments eaiie would appeare ; 

My foule with joy {hall fcale the ikies. 

When Maudlin heard her lover's moane. 

Her eyes with teares, her heart with forrow filled was: 

To fpeake with him no meanes is knowne. 

Such grievous doome on him did pafle. 

Then fhee caft off her lad's attire ; 

A maiden's weede upon her back fhe feemely fet : 

To the judge's houfe fhee did enquire. 

And there fhee did a fervice get. 

Shee did her duty there fo well. 

And eke fo prudently fhe did her felfe behave. 

With her in love her mafter fell ; 

His fervant's favour hee doth crave. 

Maudlin, quoth hee, my heart's delight. 
To whom my heart is in affection tied. 
Breed not my death through thy defpight ; 
A faithfull friend I will be tryed. 

Grant me thy love, faire maid, quoth hee. 
And at my hands require what thou canft devife. 
And I will grant it unto thee. 
Whereby thy credit may arife. 

The Merchant's Daughter. 

I have a brother, fir, fhe faid, 
For his rehgion is now condemned to dye : 
In loathfome prifon hee is layd, 
Oppreft with griefe and mifery. 

Grant me my brother's hfe, fhee faid. 
And to you my love and Uking I will give. 
That may not be, quoth hee, faire maid ; 
Except he turne, he cannot live. 

An Engliih Frier there is, fhee faid. 
Of learning great and pafTing pure of life. 
Let him to my brother be fent. 
And he will finifh foone the ftrife. 

Her mafter hearing this requeft. 

The marriner in frier's weed fhe did array. 

And to her love, that lay diflrefl, 

Shee did a letter flraight convey. 

When hee had read thefe gentle lines. 
His heart was ravilhed with fudden joy ; 
Where now fhee was full, well hee knew : 
The frier likewife was not coy ; 

But did declare to him at large 

The enterprife for him his love had taken in hand. 

The young man did the frier charge. 

His love fliould flraight depart the land. 



1 14 The Merchant's Daughter. 

Here is no place for her, hee faid, 

But woefull death and danger of her harmleffe life : 

ProfefTing truth I was betraid, 

And fearfull flames muft end my ftrife. 

For, ere I will my faith deny, 

And fweare my felfe to follow damned Antichrift, 

He yeeld my body for to die. 

To live in heaven with the higheil. 

O fir ! the gentle frier faid, 

For your fweet love recant, and fave your wifhed life. 

A wofull match, quoth hee, is made 

Where Chrifl is loll to win a wife. 

When fhe had wrought all meanes that might 

To fave her friend, and that fhe faw it would not bee. 

Then of the judge fhee claimed her right. 

To die the death as well as hee. 

When no perfwaiion could prevaile. 

Nor change her mind in any thing that ihee had faid. 

She was with him condemned to die. 

And for them both one fire was made. 

And arme in arme mofl: joyfully 

Thefe lovers twaine unto the fire they did goe : 

The marriner moft faithfully 

Was likewife partner of their woe. 

The Merchant's Daughter. 

But when the judges underftood 

The faithfull friendllup did in them remainc, 

They faved their Hves ; and afterward 

To England lent them home againe. 

Now was their forrow turned to joy. 

And faithfull lovers had now their heart's defire : 

Their paines fo well they did imploy, 

God granted that they did require. 

And when they were to England come. 
And in merry Briftow arrived at the laft, 
Great joy there was to all and fome 
That heard the dangers they had paft. 

Her gentle mafter fhee defired 

To be her father, and at the church to give her then 

It was fulfilled as fliee required. 

Unto the joy of all good men. 

I I 


My pretty little one. 

To a pleafant new Tune. 

[We may perhaps carry this ballad back to the reign of Henry VIII. 
the fcore of a fong of that date, called " My little pretty one," being 
known (Chappell's Nat. Engl. Airs, ii. 167). It is indifputably very 
old, although in the only impreflion that has come down to us — *' Lon- 
don, Printed for W. Thackaray, T. Paflenger, and W. Whitwood " 
— it has been modernized and obvioufly mifprinted. The full title con- 
fifts of the burden " Come turn to me, thou pretty little one, and I will 
turn to thee."] 

WEET, if thou wilt be 
As I am to thee. 
Then, by Cupid's mother 
I have vow'd to have 
none other fhe. 
Then turn to me, thou pretty little one, 
and I w^ill turn to thee. 

Thofe bright eyes of thine. 
Which do dazzle mine. 
Like the flars of heaven. 
Which do keep their even 

courfe and fhine : 
Then let us in conjundtion meet, 

and both our loves combine. 

If that lovely face 
Will to mine give place. 

My pretty little one. 


That with love's devotion. 
We may ufe the motion 

of imbrace. 
Then fit thee down, my pretty little one, 

and let us love a fpace. 

What hurt is this 
For to take a kiiTe ? 
If it may be granted, 
I that long have wanted 

fuch a bliiTe, 
Then be not fparing of a few, 

whereas fuch plenty is. 

If thy breafts do pant 
For the milk they want, 
Every hill and mountain 
To fupply each fountain 

be not fcant : 
Then give to me thy lilly white hand, 

and I thee mine will grant. 

If fo be that I 
May but thee come nigh, 
The vine and elm fliall never 
Joyn more clofe together, 

then will I : 
Then fhew thy fruits, my amorous joy, 

and He with love fupply. 


My pretty little one. 

If that thou doft crave 

Silks and garments brave. 

Or what rich attyre 

Could thy heart defire 

to receive. 

Declare to me, thou pretty little one ; 

thou canft but aik and have. 

Sweet-heart, for thy fake 

I will never make 

Choice of any other ; 

Then, by Cupid's mother, 

freely fpeak. 

Its at thy choice, my deareft love. 

either to leave or take. 

I thy mary gold. 

Wrapt in many fold. 

Like the golden clyent 

To the fun fupplient. 

fhew its gold : 

. Difplay thy beams, my glorious fun. 

and He to thee unfold. 

Thofe bright locks of hair. 

Spreading o'er each ear. 

Every crifp and curie 

Far more rich then pearl 

doth appear : 

My pretty little one. 


Then, be thou conftant in thy love, 
and I will be thy dear. 

Till I have pofTeft 
Thee, whom I love beft, 
I have vow'd for ever. 
In thy abfence never 

to take refl. 
Deny me not, thou pretty little one, 

in whom my hopes are bleft. 

If a kifle or two 
Can thee a favour do. 
Were it more then twenty. 
Love's indu'd with plenty 

lovers know : 
For thy fweet fake a thoufand take, 

for that's the way to wooe. 

It doth grieve my heart 
From thee for to part ; 
It is to me more pleafant 
Ever to be prefent 

where thou art : 
Yet in the abfence of a friend 

my love fliall never ftart. 

As to me thou art kind. 
Duty fhall mee bind 


My pretty little one. 

Ever to obey thee ; 
Reafon fo doth fway me 

to thy mind : 
Thou hafl my heart where e're thou art, 

although I flay behind. 

In thy bed or bark 
I will be thy mark: 
Couples yet more loving 
Never had their moving 

from the Ark. 
Welcome to mee, my only joy, 

all times, be it light or dark ! 

The Devil driven away 

by Women. 

To the Tune of " Death's Dance," 

[The tune to which the enfuing comic ballad was Tung, is ftated on 
the broadfide to be " Death's Dance," but it mull: have been a differ- 
ent Dance of Death to that which ftands firft in our volume, as both 
would not run to the fame air. We may conclude, therefore, that it 
was " Death's Dance " which alfo went by the name of " The Shak- 
ing; of the Sheet," and was popular in 1560, if not earlier. (Hift. Engl. 
Dram. Poetry and the Stage, ii. 474.) The fomcwhat peculiar tide 
of the old copy is this : — 

" An excellent new Ditty, or 

Which proveth that women the beft warriers be, 
For they made the Devill from earth for to flee." 

It was " Printed at London, for H. G.*' /. e. Henry GofTon, who pub- 
lifhed fo many produ6lions for the amufement of the multitude.] 

LD Beelzebub merry 

dilpoled to be, 
To earth he did hurry. 
Tome palHme to fee : 
A landlord he proved, 

and leafes would let 
To all them that loved 
a long life to get. 


The Devil driven 

Come hither, all mortalls, 

quoth the Devill of hell. 
Come longtailes and curtailes 

now unto my cell : 
To you I here proffer 

a bargaine to buy ; 
If you'l take my offer, 

you never fhall dye. 

This bargaine them pleafed, 

they long'd it to gaine; 
The ficke and difeafed 

came thither amaine ; 
And though they were crafie, 

they thither could fiye. 
The fluggard and lazy 

this bargaine would buy. 

The gallants and gentry, 

his love to embrace. 
From city and country 

fiockt hither apace : 
Long life they defired 

with much jollity ; 
Their hearts they were fired 

this bargaine to buy. 

The dames of the city 

came hither with fpeed ; 
Your merchant wives pretty 

away by Women. 

I 2 

would leale to this deed. 
To live with a lover 

and never to dye : 
Here curtefans hover 

this bargaine to buy. 

No females there wanted, 

but hither thev came : 
They came till they panted, 

to purchafe the fame : 
Wives, widdowes, and maidens 

to the Devill did hye ; 
Brave lalfes and ladies 

this bargaine would buy. 

The lecher, which viewed 

fuch pretty ones there. 
His love was renewed, 

and hee'd have a fhare ; 
And here he fojourned, 

*caufe never hee'd dye : 
His heart it was burned 

this bargaine to buy. 

Now wicked fonnes came in, 
that had their meanes fpent 

In dicing and gaming, 
to this office went : 

Apace they here gather, 
becaufe they'd not dye. 


The Devil driven 

But to outlive their father 

this bargaine they'd buy. 

Next comes the fhoomaker 

to crave a long life. 

Here to be partaker 

he brought his fine wife. 
The taylor attends here ; 

for money they cry. 
And follow the fpender 

this bargaine to buy. 

The ufurers follow 

that pawnes have in hand ; 
With whoop and with hollow 

they call for the land. 

Which fpend-thrifts pawne to them, 

while for cafh they hye : 
To live to undoe them 

this bargaine they'll buy. 

Next came thefe rich farmers 

that coozin the poore. 

And hoord up in corners 

provifion and ftore ; 
To live till a deare yeere. 

and never to dye, 
Thefe greedy corn-mizers 
this bargaine would buy. 

away by Women. 


Now brokers came hither. 

that in their hands had 

Pawnes heaped together. 

both good ones and bad : 

To hve till they view them 

all forfeited lye. 

To the Devill they fue them 

this bargaine to buy 

This purchafe contented 

the Devill of hell. 

To fee fuch flockes enter 

all into his cell ; 

Yet ftill he proclaimed 

they never fliould dye. 

Who ere it was aimed 

this bargaine to buy. 

Next came the poore women 

that cry fifh and oyfters ; 

They flocke here in common. 

and many great clufters : 

They ran hither fcolding 

and to the Devill cry. 

Sir, wee'd be beholding 

this bargaine to buy. 

But when thefe came hither 

they kept fuch a noife. 

Each brabled with other 


The Devil driven away. 

which firft fhould have choife. 
As that their noyfe frighted 

the Devill of hell : 
No more he delighted 

fuch bargaines to fell. 

Quoth he, I muft from them, 

for fhould 1 flay here. 
In pieces among them 

my body they'l teare : 
Quoth he, I am willing 

to deale among men. 
But nere will have dealing 

'mongft women agen. 

I 27 


Lamentation of Englande. 

To the Tune of " Weepe, weepe." 

[It is impoflible now to afcertain whom the initials W. M. at the 
end of this hiftorical ballad rcprefcnt : he wrote it in 1584, and two 
years afterwards Thomas Deloney penned an effufion of precifely the 
fame chara6ter, and to the fame tune, upon the execution of Ballard 
Babbington, &c. (See "Old Ballads" printed for the Percy Society 
in 1840, p. loi.) This "Lamentation" on the execution of Throg- 
morton contains fome particulars connedled with his death that are not 
given by our Chroniclers, and the mention of the execution of Arden, a 
relation of Shakelpeare by his mother's fide, is interefting. The title 
of the ballad in the old black-letter copy runs thus : " The Lamen- 
tation of Englande for the late Treafons confpir^d againft the Queene's 
Majeftie, and the whole Realme, by Francis Throgmorton, who was 
executed for the fame at Tyborne on Friday, being the tenth day 
of July laft paft, 1584." After the notice of the tune to which it 
was to be fung come the following lines, as the burden at the end of 
every ftanza, 

" Pray, pray, and praife the Lord, whofe wondrous works are feene, 
That brought to light the fecret fnare laid lately for our Queene." 

It was " Imprinted at London by Richard Jhones."] 

ITH brinifhe teares and fobbing fighes, 
I, Englande, pine in paine. 
To fee and heare fuch fecret fedies 
among my people raine : 
Now being in my golden prime, 
where nedlar fweete doth flowe, 


The Lamentation of Englande. 

And where the facred worde is taught, 
eche ChrilHan's joye to fhowe. 

And where the Lord of Lords hath fet 

his handmaide pure and cleene, 
Annoynting her my rightfull Prince, 

to reigne a royall Queene ; 
Indued with wifedome from above, 

and ftorde with knowledge great. 
That flying fame throughout the world 

her praifes doth repeate. 

Who to the facred worde doth ftande 

with zeale and godly minde. 
Maintaining truth, embracing faith, 

and to eche fubjed: kinde. 
Alas ! why then, my people deare, 

what is the caufe you fwerve 
Againfl: the Lord's annoynted fo, 

your owne felfe willes to ferve ? 

Have you not peace and plentie both, 

which other realmes do want? 
Have you not worldly pleafures ftore, 

whereof there is no fkant ? 
Have I not not foftered you with foode, 

which Nature bringeth foorth ? 
Have I not fed you dayntily, 

with milke and hony both ? 

The Lamentation of Encrlande 


And have not I a carefull Prince, 

the prop of all your ftay. 
Which loveth me, which cares for you, 

and prayes for us eche day ? 
What is the caufe fuch'mifchiefes, then, 

among you doe remaine ? 
Truely, the fulnes of the flefh, 

which you fo much obtaine. 

It makes me weepe with trickling teares,. 

and wring my hands full colde. 
To heare, to fee, and thinke upon, 

the dangers manyfolde. 
My loving Prince and Queene is in 

by means of Satan's crew. 
Which often doth confpire the death 

Of her, my lover true. 

How many mifcheefes are devifed ? 

how many wayes are wrought ? 
How many vilde confpiracies 

again ft her Grace are fought ? 
Yet God, that rules in heaven above, 

lookes downe on earth belowe. 
Who dauntes them in their wickedneffe, 

and doth his power fhowe. 

For when his highnes doth perceive 
that dangers are at hande. 

I 29 

130 The Lamentation of Englande. 

Then doth he fhewe by fecret meanes 
thofe perils to withftande ; 

And will not let his chofen flocke 
to perifhe on the earth. 

But doth her fecret foes confounde 
by meanes of fhamefull death. 

As late was feene by Arden he, 

and Sommervile alfo, 
intend Who did pretende to kill my Queene, 

and worke her fubjed:s woe : 
But God who doth her ftill defende, 

her Grace he did preferve, 
And wrought a fhame unto them felves, 

as they did befl deferve. 

Throgmorton lately did confpire 

to overthrowe the State, 
That ftrangers might invade the realme 

upon an evening late. 
And lande in places where he knewe 

the realme was fomething weake, 
The fecret of which thing he did 

to forraigne Princes breake. 

His dealing with the Queen of Scottes, 

by letters to and fro. 
Informing her and other States 

of all that he did knowe ; 

'I'he Lamentation of Englandc. 


What freends In England they Ihould find, 

Wliat power they iliould bring, 

Our Quecne thereby for to dilplace ; 

this was a wofull thing. 

He fought to difpolTefTe my Queene 

Of dignitie and crowne. 

And place a ftranger in her ftate, 

thereby to tread her downe : 

Ireland and Scotland, by advife. 

the enemie fhould invade, 

Then into England bring a power. 

as he the plat had made. 

Thefe were the treafons which he wrought. 

my good Queene to difplace. 

To fpoyle the flate of all this realme. 

Such was his want of grace : 

But God, who doth proted: me ftill. 

ofi?ended at the fame. 

Even in his yong and tender yeares. 

did cut him off with fhame. 


O, thou Throgmorton, wicked wight ! 

why didft thou this devife ? 

Why did the feare of God and Prince 

depart fo from thine eyes ? 

No rebelles power fliall her difplace. 

God will defende her ftill ; 


The Lamentation of Englande, 

Her fubjedes all will loofe their lives, 
ere traytors have their will. 

And though he florifht for a fpace, 

in feeking his intent. 
When to the pit's brinke that he came, 

God did his worke prevent ; 
And did preferve, in Ipight of him, 

his chofen velTell pure. 
That fhe might florifh flill in peace, 

my comfort to procure. 

When as the fervants of the Lorde, 

I meane the children three, 
Were put into the fierie oven, 

deftroyed for to bee. 
Then fierie flames did them no harme, 

they fung and prayed with joye. 
And thofe which flood to worke their woe, 

the fparkles did deftroye. 

And when the children of the Lord 

King Pharao did purfue. 
To drowne them in the foming floods, 

God was a captaine true : 
The waves like walles ftood on eche fide, 

and they free pafTadge founde. 
And Pharao with his mightie hofte 

came after, and was drounde. 

The Lamentation of Eno-lande. 


Even fo the Lord, by his great might, 

my comfort doth maintaine. 
In keeping and preferving ftill 

my Prince from traitors traine : 
And did preferve her from the harmes 

Throgmorton did pretende. 
Who even at Tyborne for the fame 

did make a fliamefuU ende. 

And though fuch impes do worke her fpite 

ten thoufande kinde of waies. 
Yea, though the devill himfelfe do iite, 

to fpoyle her golden daies. 
Yet if the Lorde defende my wrong, ' 

their courage foone fhall quaile : 
So long as God ftands on her fide, 

no power fhall prevaile. 

Therefore, my loving people deare, 

graunt England her requeft. 
Pray to the Lord, him ferve with feare, 

and traitors hearts deteft : 
Embrace the truth, lay holde on faith, 

walke in the path of peace. 
Obey your Prince, fight in her caufe, 

and England's wealth encreafe. 

And with new warning take new hearts, 
olde venomed minds deteft; 



I'he Lamentation of Englande. 

Efchue all finne, encreafe good works. 

that you in peace may reft. 

From all olde cuftomes that are evill. 

put on the new man Chrift, 

And newly change your former lives. 


and learne to pleafe the higheft. 

W. M. 




=- ^^^y__^_ — 









Be merry, Friends. 

To be fung to a new Tune. 

[This, in its original ftate, is a ballad of the time of Henry the VIII. 
Edward VI. or Mary, for its author, John Heywood, wrote in thofe 
reigns, and it exifts in a manufcript of about that time formerly in the 
library of Mr. Bright. Our copy is evidently in many places a clever 
modernization, and it was " Printed for Thomas AIiIline;ton in Cornhill" 
foon after the year 1600. In Mr. Bright's manufcript fomeof the ftanzas 
are incomplete, but in the broadfide the deficiencies were fupplied, either 
from a better copy or by conjecture. It appears from a A4S. in the 
pofTefTion of Lord Francis Egerton that John Heywood was ftill livino- 
in 1576, and that he was a native of Kent.] 

E merry, friends, and take no thought; 
For worldly cares now care ye nought, 
For who fo doth, when all is fought, 
Shall find that thought availeth not. 

Be merry, friends ! 

And fuch as have all wealth at will. 
Their wills and pleafures to fulfill. 
Need never grudge at any ill. 
Nor need I fmg this fong untill. 

Be merry, friends ! 


Be merry. Friends. 

But unto fuch as wifh and want. 

Whofe worldly wealth is very fcant, 

No wealth to fpend, no land to plant. 

To them it is I chiefly chant 

Be merry, friends 1 

To fuch as have had grief annext 

Unto their lives, extremely vext. 

In worldly ftorms toft, and perplext. 

To them I fing this fhort fweet text. 

Be merry, friends I 

To laugh and winne each man agrees. 


But each man cannot laugh and leefe ; 

Yet laughing in the laft of thefe 

Hath been allowd in all degrees. 

Be merry, friends ! 

Be merry in forrow, the wife have faide. 

Which faying, being wifely waide. 

It feems a lelTon truly made 

For thofe whom forrows ft ill invade. 

Be merry, friends ! 

Make not two forrowes out of one. 

For one is fure enough alone ; 

To graft new forrow there upon 

Is grafting crab with crab, ne're done. 

Be merry, friends ! 

Be merry, Friends. 


To take our ibrrows mournfully 
Augmenteth hut our malady ; 
But taking forrows merrily 
Maketh them fmaller, verily. 

Be merry, friends ! 

Of griefes to come ftand not in fray. 
But make defence, the heft you may ; 
Which done, no more to do or fay. 
Come what come fliall, but care away. 

Be merry, friends 1 

If forrowes come we can not flee. 
But needs they mufh indured bee. 
Make vertue of necelTitie, 
And bear thy felfe right manfullie. 

Be merry, friends ! 

Be ever joyous, lofe or winne. 
So be no fault of thine therein ; 
Do not be firft for to beginne : 
The only grief is truly linne. 

Be merry, friends ! 

If friends be loft, then get thee more; 
If wealth be loit, thou itill haft ftore ; 
The merry man is never poor. 
He lives upon the world : therefore. 

Be merry, friends ! 



Be merry, Friends. 

The lofs of wealth is lofs of dirt. 
As fages in all times aiTert : 
The happy man*s without a fhirt. 
And never comes to maim or hurt. 

Be merry, friends ! 

All feafons are to him the fpring. 
In flowers bright and florifhing. 
With birds upon the tree or wing. 
Who in their fafhion alway ling 

Be merry, friends ! 

If that thy doublet has a hole in. 
Why, it can keep the lefs thy foule in. 
Which rangeth foorth beyond controulling, 
Whilft thou haft nought to do, but trolling 

Be merry, friends ! 

Be merry in God, St. Paule faith plaine : 

Be merry in God, I fay again. 

And let not his advice be vain ; 

Or if thou wilt, thou cannot complain. 

Be merry, friends ! 

Let the world Aide, let the world go : 
A fig for care, and a iig for woe ! 
If I cant pay, why, I can owe ; 
And death makes equall the high and low. 

Be merry, friends ! 

John Heywood, 

Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. 

[This broadfide is in the form of a ballad, and it was the compofi- 
tion of one of the moft notorious authors of fuch pieces : it relates, 
alfo, to an individual of the higheft eminence in the Church, and until 
now it has never been re-printed from the old copy, nor mentioned 
in any lift of Elderton's produdtions. Thefe are the reafons which 
have led to its infertion here : the full title of the unique broadfide 
is, "An Epitaphe uppon the Death of the Right Reverend and learned 
Father in God, I. Juell, Doctor of Di\initie, and Bifhop of Sarif- 
burie, whom God called to his marcie the 22 of September, 1 57 1." 
Anthony Wood (Ath, Oxon. i. 395. edit. Blifs ) gives the day of 
Jewell's death 23 Sept. The colophon runs thus : " Imprynted at 
London in Fleete-ftreate, beneath the Conduit at the figne of S. John 
Evangelift by Thomas Colwell."] 

^^HE Juell of our joye is gone! 
^-^ the happie heavens have wonne 
The greatefl gift that ever was 
with us beneth the fonne : 

Which makes fuch weeping eyes 

in Sallefbury, they faye. 
As all the ronning ftreames thereof, 

can never wallie awaye. 

Alas ! is Juell dead, 

the folder of the flocke .? 
If Death hath caught the diall up, 

then who Hiall keepe the clocke ? 

140 Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. 

O God ! what greefe is this, 

thye charie Church fhould want 

A Biflioppe of lb good a grace, 
wher good men be lb flcant. 

Wee feare the plague, they faye, 

but luch a plague as this, 
Sithens I was borne I never knewe, 
certainly nor never fhall i'wis : 

Yet are there fome behinde, 

I trull, will learne to knowe. 

How Juell to his dieng daye 
his talents did beftowe. 

So bufie at his booke, 

to bring the truth to light. 

As they that lyke the redie way, 
maye looke and finde it right. 

His houfe and houlholde was 
fo kept, for his degree. 

As Paull in his Epiftles wrightes 
a Bilhoppes houfe fhould be. 

His diocelTe, I beleeve, 
he kept in fo good awe. 

As vertue is content to fweare, 
they lived within her lawe. 

Epitaph on Bilhop Jewell. 


His handes and harte were free, 

the needie could not lacke ; 

Such peace and concorde planted hee. 

as nothinir went to wracke. 

And charie went to churche 

himfelfe by breake of daye. 

That his example might procure 

the reft to go that waye : 

And gave unto his men 

their dueties when he died. 


With large and lordlie recompence : 

this can not be denied. 

Alas ! with piteous mone 

all Chriftians now maye weepe. 

That wee have fuch a lliepard gone : 

God helpe the felie fheepe ! 

Methinkes, I fee in heaven 

triumphant Truth appeare. 

And Faythfulnes, which fpeake alowde. 

Let Juell nowe come neare. 

Th' Appoftelles all do preafe. 


methinkes, to fee his face ; 

And all the angells go about 

to bring him to his place : 


Epitaph on Bifhop Jewell. 

Even Chrift himfelfe, me thinkes, 

I fee begins to fmile. 
And faith, Beholde my chofen frend, 

I lookte for all this v/hile. 

And Abraham rendes his clothes, 

and bowells out his breft. 
And fayth to Juell, Jumpe in here, 

and take thye quiet reft. 

W. Elderton. 



Father's Admonition. 

To the Tune of " Grim King of the Ghofts." 

[This ballad is not of a very early date, although it is impofliblc to 
fettle that date with any degree of accuracy. It was written to the 
tune of a fong in Percy's Reliques, ii. 395. (Edit. 18 12.) there printed 
under the title of " The Lunatic Lover," beginning 

'' Grim king of ghofts, make hafte." 

The air long continued popular, and Rowe wrote to it his famous fong, 
" Defpairing befide a clear ftrcam," &c. I'he ballad here given is from 
a copy " Printed for P. Brookfby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, and J. Back," 
which muft have been a comparatively modern re-print, iftued late in 
the feventeenth century, with the following title : " The Father's 
wholefome Admonition, or a lumping Pennyworth of good Counfel for 
bad Hua)ands."] 

;Y fon, if you reckon to wed, 

and take your felf to a kind wife, 
Then, then, let it never be faid, 

but that you'll reform your old life 
There's many good pounds you have fpent, 

the which you had reafon to prize ; 
But labour in time to repent : 

'tis good to be merry and wife. 


The Father's Admonition. 

Be fure keep a penny in ftore, 

'twill help you when friends they may fail. 
For fhould you fpend all, and gr(fw poor, 

your cafe you'll have caufe to bewail : 
In troubles you'll flrangely be hurl'd, 

the which will your fenfes furprife ; 
But he that will thrive in this world 

muft learn to be merry and wife. 

Perchance you may meet with a friend, 

which doth to your dealings belong. 
If with him a tefter you fpend, 

this can do you no great wrong ; 
And then to your labour again, 

it being enough to fuffice. 
This care will your houfehold maintain : 

'tis good to be merry and wife. 

There's many a woman well bred 

has marry'd a prodigal knave. 
So that, the fame day flie was wed, 

'twere better fhe had gone to her grave : 
Her lands and her livings all fold, 

which cauf'd tears to flow from her eyes ; 
And likewife true friendfhip grew cold : 

then, 'tis good to be merry and wife. 

Son, if a rich wife be thy lot, 
be careful and thrifty, I pray. 

The Father's Admonition. 

For means is not ealily got, 

as it may be fquander'd away. 

Be carefull, and always contrive 

thofe temporall blellings to prize, 

For he that is wilUng to thrive 

muft learn to be merry and wife. 

There's fome that are abfolute poor, 

as well I can make it appear. 
Who will in flrong liquor fpend more 

than fome that have hundreds a year ; 
And bring their poor families low, 

and can't get wherewith to fuffice : 
But that man would never do iOy 

who learns to be merry and wife. 

The workman that is a boon lad, 
you'll find his condition is thus ; 

If trading fhould chance to grow bad, 
he fcarce has a groat in his purfe : 

While he that doth get, fpend, and fave, 
has always enough to fuffice. 

Then, fon, if this bleffing you'd have, 
pray learn to be merry and wife. 

This counfel which to you I give, 

oh ! prize it more dearer than gold. 

And then you in credit may live, 

and fave fomething while you grow old : 




The Father's Admonition. 

There's many have dearly bought wit, 
when fathers' good words they defpife. 

My fon, ne'er fpend all that you get, 
but learn to be merry and wife. 

Great getters, that fpend all, are like 

the cow that gives much at a meal. 
Who, having done, ftraightway doth ftrike, 

and kick it all down with her heel. 
Ad: like the induftrious bee, 

and then you to riches may rife ; 
And flourifhing days you will fee, 

if you'll but be merry and wife. 

' + 

The Praife of Nothing. 

To the Tune of " Though I have but a marke a yeare, &:c," 

[In 1585, Sir Edward Dyer printed a brief profe tra6l called "The 
Prayfe of Nothiniz;." The following clever ballad fecms a verfificd imi- 
tation of it, and being intended for the amufement of the crowd, treats 
fome of the topics popularly, which Sir Edward Dyer had dealt with 
learnedly. It will call to mind in feveral places the poem long 
afterwards attributed to the Earl of Rochefter, who, however, feems to 
have borrowed more clofely from the Capitolo of Francefco Copctta, 
nel quale fi lodano le Noncovelle^ publifhed as early as 1548. To the 
general title of the ballad, " The praife of Nothing," are added the fol- 
lowing lines : 

" Though fome do wonder why I write the praife 
Of Nothing in thefe lamentable dales. 
When they have read, and will my counfell take, 
I hope of Nothing they will Something make ! " 

From the exprefTion " in thefe lamentable days," we are perhaps to in- 
fer that the plague, as it was called, was prevailing in London when the 
ballad was compofed. Our text has the imprint of " H. Goll'on, 
dwelling upon London-Bridge, nere the (jate." Had not the ballad 
been written before the date of Shakefpeare's comedy, it would, per- 
haps, have been called " Much ado about Nothing."] 

HE prailb of wifdom fome doe write, 
and fome the praife of money, 

And every one, Hke bees to th' hive, 
from fomething gather hony : 

148 The Praife of Nothing. 

But if my genius doe not faile 
To prompt me, ere I end my tale 
You'll find that Nothing will prevaile; 
for all muft turne to Nothing. 

Nothing was firfl and fhall be lafl, 

for Nothing holds for ever ; 
And Nothing ever yet fcap't death, 

fo can't the longefl liver : 
Nothing's immortall ; Nothing can 
From crolTes ever keepe a man : 
Nothing can live when the world is gone, 
for all Ihall come to Nothing. 

Nothing in all the world be finde 
with forrow more perplexed, 
Than he that with a fcolding wife 

eternally is vexed, 
Whofe tongue by Nothing can be quel'd. 
Although with red hot pincers held. 
For fhe will to no reafon yeeld, 

but fcold and brawle for Nothing. 

Nothing is fwifter then the winde, 
or lighter than a feather. 

Yet I another thing have found, 
which quite excelleth either : 

A harlot's love that every day 

Is chang'd and fwiftly blowne away; 

The Praifc of Nothincr. 

But what's more light then her, I pray ? 
the wifeman anfweres, Nothing. 

Nothing Ihall therefore pleafe me more 

than women to abandon; 
For if that I fliould fill in love 

or joyne with fuch a wanton, 
Shee'd breake my very heart-firings fure. 
Or I mufl: Vulcan's lot endure. 
And patiently abide the cure, 

or elfe be help'd by Nothing. 

Take you heed, then, unmarried lads, 

before you grow a lover. 
And ere too foone you chufe a wife 

with honeft patience prove her ; 
For Nothing can againe unwed. 
Nor cure a cuckold's aking head ; 
Befides, once loft, a maiden-head 

can be recal'd by Nothing. 

In heat of war Nothing is fafe ; 

in peace Nothing refped:ed. 
But ill got wealth, which to procure 

no vice at all's negledled. 
The fonne doth willi his father's end. 
That he may have his wealth to fpend ; 
But let fuch lads their manners mend, 

or all will come to Nothing. 



The Praife of Nothing. 

Nothing is fafe by fea or land, 

nor alwaies free from danger. 
Which is committed to the truft 

of either friend or ftranger; 
For Nothing in the world remaines. 
But for their private ends or gaines 
They'l hav't, although they break their brains, 

or bring themfelves to Nothing. 

Nothing's regarded more then gold, 

but vertue's quite decay'd ; 
For gold the ufurer fets his foule, 

which muft at laft be paid, 
When Nothing from the grave can call 
Such mizers, who their foules inthrall 
To gripe and hoord the devill and all ; 

but better they had Nothing. 

Nothing can from the fight of God 

conceale the faults of any. 
For his cleare eye can fearch into 

the fmallefl chinke or cranny: 
He can within thy heart efpy 
The fecret'fl finnes which there doe lye. 
But if you to repentance hie, 
they fhall appeare as Nothing. 

Nothing therefore hereafter feeke, 
but vertue, vice detefting. 

The Pralfe of Nothincr. 


With purefi: robes of fandlity 

your humble foule inverting ; 
And feeke you after no fuch thing 
Which may your foule to forrow bring, 
Or while thou liv'ft thy confcience fting, 

or elfe defire Nothing. 

For though but little thou art worth, 

yet Nothing dofl defire. 
Nor coveteft thy neighbour's goods, 

nor 'hove thy felfe afpire. 
But refteft honeftly content 
With that poore little God hath fent. 
Thou mayft difperfe in merriment, 

and fay thou wants for Nothing. 

When earth-wormes fpend their dayes in care, 

and nere can reft in quiet, 
Nor with the feare to lofe their gold 

have time to fleepe or dyet ; 
But with a fad and penfive minde 
Still ftudying how the poore to grinde, 
Untill at lafl: with forrow finde 

themfelves are turn'd to Nothing. 

And thus you now have heard the praife 

of Nothing, worth a penny. 
Which as I ftand to fmg here now 

I hope will yeeld me many : 


The Praife of Nothing. 

But if that price be held too deare. 
Or any miflike this counfell here. 
He may depart with a flea in's eare, 
for I will give him Nothing. 


X>anffiorne izncCawfioCe' CaruCeU 
fi^dC, danpe outjyour Cigfits Rear^ 

J J 

The Norfolk Farmer's 

Journey to London. 

To the Tune of'-'- The Spanifh Pavin." 

[The name of Edward Ford is new in our ballad-poetry, though not 
in our literature, as he was known as a writer in the reign of James I : 
pofTibly he was related to John Ford the dramatift. He has left us 
an amufing pi(5lure of manners in the enfuing fatirical effufion, in which 
he fuppofes an old Norfolk farmer and his wife to come to town to 
vifit relations, who receive them very inhofpitably : the points, in which 
various places in London are defcribed, are curious ; but the dialosue 
is irregularly conducted, and mixed up with narrative matter. The 
full title is as follows : " A merry Difcourfe betwcenc Norfolke 
Thomas and Sifly Standtoo't, his wife ; together with their thankleile 
journey from Norfolk to London, onely to fee their friends, and how 
they doe refpedl and entertaine 'um for their love and labour : 

Which fhewes that this fame age, moft certaine true. 
Is onely for to afke yee how ye doe." 

It was " Printed by M. P. for F. C." confiderably later, we appre- 
hend, than the firft appearance of the broadfide, which clearly came 
out during the prevalence of the plague, perhaps in 1603.] 

O London is mad Thomas come. 
With Silly, here, his wife alone. 
To fee fome friends, I hear, are gone 
to heaven a while ago : 
But I do hope it is a lye. 


The Norfolk Farmer's 

As I fhall find it by and by. 

Or elfe poore Tom and SilTe fhould cry, 

till Doomes-day. 

For though they be none of the beft, 
I fhould be loath, I do proteft. 
To hear that they are gone to reft, 

and never take their leave : 
For I do love 'um all fo well, 
A little thing would make me dwell 
Within the founding of Bow-bell, 

at London. 

Nay, hufband, do not you fay fo : 
Our cottage poore wee'l not forgo 
For the befi: houfe that ftands aroe 

'twixt Cheap and Charing CrofTe ; 
For though our houfe be thatch't with flraw. 
We do not live, as fome, in awe. 
For 'tis our own by common law, 

in Norfolke. 

Befides, we live at heart's content : 
We take no care to pay our rent. 
For that is done incontinent, 

in twinkling of an eye ; 
When here at London, as they fay, 

Journey to London. 

They brawle and brabble every day, 
And few or none but rinds a way 

to Hogdfdon, 



Mum, Sifly ; keep your clapper ftill ; 
There's them can hear at Highgate Hill : 
There's rats has been in Peggie's mill, 

or elfe fhe lies her felfe. 
What if the world be vilde and bad. 
Shall I be fuch a foolifli lad 
To blaze and noyfe it all abroad ? 

I fcorn it. 

Although, indeed, I muft confefTe 
Thou fpeak'ft but truth, my honeft SifTe, 
Yet ever while you live marke this, 

and take it for a rule. 
That every chimney muft not fmoake. 
Nor every begger weare a cloake. 
Nor every truth muft not be fpoke, 

in fadnelTe. 

But hang that cobler and his ends. 
That lives too well, and never mends : 
Would they were whipt that nere offends ! 

peace, chuck; I meane not thee. 
But thou wilt fcold fometime, I know. 


The Norfolk Farmer's 

The more is Thomas Standtoot's wo ; 
But, hang it, come let's trip and go 

to Fleetftreet. 

And thus they trudg'd along the jftreet. 
With many a juille they did meet. 
Which put poore Thomas in a fweat, 

and fomething angry too ; 
Which made him think they told a lye 
That faid there did fo many dye. 
When as he could not go hardly 

for people. 

At length quoth flie, good hufband, ftay. 
And tell me what this place is, pray. 
Where things are carried as they may ? 

I never faw the like. 
For yonder's one doth ride in ftate. 
And here's a begger at a gate, 
And there's a woman that will prate 

for nothing. 

See, here is one that foundly beats. 
And thumps his hemp untill he fweats ; 
And there's another greedy eats : 

I fear hee'l choke himfelfe. 
And yonder goes a gallant bilk. 

Journey to London. 

And there's a woman winding filk, 
And here's another fetches milk 

at Hackney. 

And here's the prettiefl: fight of all, 
A woman that is mighty tall, 
And yet her fpoufe a little fquall : 

I wonder how they met. 
And here's a man in armour ftands. 
And has, it feemes, loft both his hands : 
'Tis pitty that he has no lands 

to keep him. 

NoWy you muji by this time fuppofe them about the 
And here's a world of people fine. 
That do in filks and latins fliine : 
I would that fuite and cloak were mine. 

I hope I wiih no harme. 
And here hangs pictures two or three. 
The beft that ever I did fee : 
I thinke one looks full butt at me, 

and laughs too. 

And here's a man hath many a rat. 
Both in his hand and on his hat : 
Me thinks he keeps 'um very fat. 
O flrange ! what tailes they have. 


The Norfolk Farmer's 

And here's a gentlewoman, too. 

That hides her face from me and you : 

I wonder what fhe meanes to do 

in fummer. 

And here's an empty church, I fee : 

Great pitty 'tis, moil certainly. 

It fhould indeed no fuller be. 

and all thefe people here. 

And there's an old man carries wood. 

And here's a young man doth no good ; 

And here's a woman wears a hood ; 

hey dazie ! 



Come, Silly, let us go along, 

And not Hand gaping here among 

A fort of people that do throng : 

I never faw the like. 

But let us to our brother go. 

That will us welcome well, I know. 

For he himfelfe did tell me fo, 

at Norfolk. 

Soft ! let us knock, for here's the doore ; 

But if becaufe our cloathes are poore. 

They fhould not let us in therefore. 

'two'd make a dog to laugh : 

For I have heard my mother fay. 

Journey to London. 


That if a man flill to decay, 

There's few or none will bid him flay, 

y'are welcome. 

But lilence ! not a word but mum ; 
For fee, our brother now doth come. 
Me thinks he looks as he were dum : 

what makes him not to fpeake ? 
Good brother, we our loves unfold. 
For though my SilTe and I are old. 
Yet we have made a little bold, 

to fee you. 

And truly I do thank you for't ; 
Ye'r welcome both with all my heart : 
Wee'l drink a cup before we part, 

an't pleafe you but to ftay. 
For I have friends within, truly. 
That if they fliould a ftranger fee. 
They ftrait would very fearfull be 

of danger. 

Why, brother, we no ficknefTe have. 
Nor are we ftarted from our grave ; 
Your love is all that we do crave : 
what need you then to feare ? 
We do not come to eat your roaft. 


The Norfolk Farmer's 

Nor yet to put you unto coft. 
But now, I fee, our labour's loft, 

poore Sifly ! 

Pray, do not think the fault is mine. 
For if you'l drink a pint of wine. 
He give it you, and nere repine. 

hang mony ! what care I ? 
And had I not fo many gheife. 
Indeed I ferioufly profeffe. 
Your welcome fhould be more, or lefTe, 

good brother. 

No, thank you, brother ; eene farewell. 
A blind man now with eafe may fmell 
That all things are not carried well : 

what love, pray, call you this ? 
Come now, unto thy fifter we 
Will go with all celerity : 
No doubt that fhe fhall kinder be 

unto us. 

They condefcend and were content. 
And to their fifter ftraight they went ; 
But all in vain their time was fpent, 

for when they thither came. 
Their fifter did her maid compell. 

Journey to London. 


And bid her thus much to them tell. 
Indeed, ilie was not very well 

• at that time. 

From thence they to their couzen go. 
Being much delirous for to know 
Whether that (lie would ferve 'um fo, 

or ufe 'um in that kind : 
But, being there, this newes was brought. 
That fhe a fmock had newly bought. 
And fhe was gone to have it wrought 

with woofted. 

Well now, fays Thomas to his dear. 
What fayft thou. Silly, to this gear ? 
We have gone far, yet nere the near : 

we thank our kindred for't. 
But if that brothers be fo kind, 
What favour fhall a ftranger find ? 
Proteft, it troubles much my mind 

to think on't. 



Nay, hufband, let us not do fo : 
The befl is we can homewards go. 
And yet not trouble friend nor foe : 

what need we then to care ? 
For now each one, I tell you true. 

1 62 The Norfolk Farmer's Journey. 

Will only alk you, how do you ? 

I am glad to fee you well. Sir Hugh; 

good morrow. 


Why then, old Sifly, thou and I 
Will back again to Norfolke hie. 
And bid a fig for company : 
our dog is fport enough. 
But when we come to London next. 
Our friends (hall have a better text. 
I fwear, and vow I am foundly vext: 

who cares for't ? 

Ed. Ford, 

I 6 

Conftance of Cleveland. 

To the Tune of " Crimfon Velvet." 

[This romantic ballad, in a fomewhat plain and unpretending ftylc, 
relates incidents that may remind the reader of the old ftory of Titus 
and Gifippus, which was told in Englifti verfe by Edw. Lewicke, as 
early as 1562 : the ballad is not fo ancient by, perhaps, thirty or forty 
years ; and the printed copy that has come down to our day is at Icaft 
Hfty years more recent than the date when we believe the ballad to ha\'e 
been firft publilhed. The title the broadfide ( " Printed for F. Coles, 
J. W., T. Vere, W. Gilbertfon,") bears is, " Conftance of Cleveland : 
A very excellent Sonnet of the moft fiiir Lady Conftance of Cleve- 
land, and her difloyal Knight." We conclude that the incidents are 
mere invention, but " Conftance of Rome " is the name of a play, by 
Drayton, Munday and Hathway, mentioned in Henflowe's Diarj' under 
the year 1600, (p. 171.) The tune of " Crimfon Velvet" was highly 
popular in the reigns of Elizabeth and her fuccefTor,] 

?T was a youthfull knight 
lov'd a gallant lady ; 
Fair fhe was and bright, 
and of vertues rare : 
Herfelf llie did behave, 

fo courteoully as may be. 
Wedded they were brave ; 

joy without compare. 
Here began the grief, 
Pain without relief: 

her hulband foon her love forfook. 


Conftance of Cleveland. 

To women lewd of mind. 
Being bad inclin'd, 

he only lent a pleafant look. 
The lady fhe fate weeping. 
While that he was keeping 

company with others moe : 
Her words. My love, beleeve not. 
Come to me, and grieve not ; 

wantons will thee overthrow. 

His fair Ladie's words 

nothing he regarded ; 
Wantonnelle affords 

fuch delightfull fport. 
While they dance and fing, 

with great mirth prepared. 
She her hands did wring 

in moft grievous fort. 

! what hap had I 
Thus to wail and cry, 

unrefpecfled every day. 
Living in difdain. 
While that others gain 

all the right I fliould enjoy ! 

1 am left forfaken 
Others they are taken : 

ah my love ! why doft thou fo ? 
Her flatteries beleeve not, 

Conftance of Cleveland. 

Come to mc, and grieve not ; 
wantons will thee overthrow. 

The Knight with his fair peece 

at length the Lady fpied. 
Who did him daily fleece 

of his wealth and ftore : 
Secretly fhe flood, 

while file her fafhions tryed. 
With a patient mind, 

while deep the flrumpet fwore. 
O, Sir Knight ! quoth fhe. 
So dearly I love thee, 

my life doth reft at thy difpofe : 
By day, and eke by night. 
For thy fweet delight, 

thou fhalt me in thy arms inclofe. 
I am thine for ever ; 
Still I will perfever 

true to thee, where ere I go. 
Her flatteries believe not. 
Come to me, and grieve not ; 

wantons will thee overthrow. 


The vertuous Lady mild 
enters then among them. 

Being big with child 

as ever fhe might be : 


Conftance of Cleveland. 

With diftilling tears 

fhe looked then upon them. 
Filled full of fears, 

thus replyed Ihe : 
Ah, my love and dear ! 
Wherefore flay you here 

refufing me, your loving wife. 
For an harlot's fake, 
Which each one will take ; 

whofe vile deeds provoke much ftrife ? 
Many can accufe her : 
O, my love ! refufe her; 

with thy lady home return. 
Her flatteries beleeve not. 
Come to me, and grieve not ; 

wantons will thee overthrow. 

All in a fury then, 

the angry Knight up ftarted. 
Very furious when 

he heard his Ladle's fpeech. 
With many bitter terms 

his wife he ever thwarted, 
Uling hard extreams, 

while fhe did him befeech. 
From her neck fo white 
He took away in fpite 

her curious chain of pureft gold. 

Conftance of Cleveland. 


Her jewels and her rings. 
And all fuch coftly things 

as he about her did behold : 
The harlot in her prefence 
He did gently reverence, 

and to her he gave them all. 
He fent away his Lady, 
Full of wo as may be, 

who in a fwound with grief did fall. 

At the Ladle's wrong 

the harlot fleer'd and laughed ; 
Enticements are fo ftrong, 

they overcome the wife. 
The Knight nothing regarded 

to fee the Lady fcoffed : 
Thus was fhe rewarded 

for her enterprife. 
The harlot, all this fpace. 
Did him oft embrace ; 

fhe flatters him, and thus doth fay : 
For thee He dye and live, 
For thee my faith He give, 

no wo fliall work my love's decay. 
Thou Ihalt be my treafure. 
Thou fhalt be my pleafure, 

thou iLalt be my heart's delight : 
I will be thy darling. 


Conftance of Cleveland. 

I will be thy worldling. 

in defpight of fortune's fpight. 

Thus he did remain 

in waftfull great expences, 

Till it bred his pain, .' 

and confumed him quite. j 

When his lands were fpent, i 

troubled in his fences, -' 

Then he did repent 

of his late lewd life. 

For relief he hies. 

For relief he flyes • 

to them on whom he fpent his gold : 

They do him deny. 

They do him defie ; 

they will not once his face behold. 

Being thus diftreffed. 

Being thus oppreiTed, 

in the fields that night he lay ; 

Which the harlot knowing. 

Through her malice growing. 

fought to take his life away. 

A young and proper lad 

they had flain in fecret 

For the gold he had. 

whom they did convey 

By a ruffian lewd 

to that place direcftly, 
Where the youthful Knight 

faO: a ileeping lay. 
The bloody dagger than, 
Wherewith they kill'd the man, 

hard by the Knight he likewife laid. 
Sprinkling him with blood. 
As he thought it good, 

and then no longer there he ftayd. 
The Knight, being lb abufed. 
Was forthwith accufed 

for this murder which was done ; 
And he was condemned 
That had not offended : 

fhamefull death he might not fhun. 


When the Lady bright 

underftood the matter. 
That her wedded Knight 

was condemn'd to dye, 
To the King fhe went 

with all the fpeed that might be. 
Where fhe did lament 

her hard deftiny. 
Noble King ! quoth fhe, 
Pitty take on me, 

and pardon my poor hufbands life ; 


Conftance of Cleveland. 

Elfe I am undone 

With my little fon : 

let mercy mitigate this grief. 

Lady fair, content thee. 

Soon thou wouldft repent thee. 

if he fhould be faved fo : 

Sore he hath abus'd thee. 

Sore he hath mifus'd thee ; 

therefore. Lady, let him go. 

my liege ! quoth fhe. 

grant your gracious favour : 

Dear he is to me. 

though he did me wrong. 

The King reply'd again. 

with a ftern behaviour. 

A fubjed; he hath flain : 

dye he fhall ere long, 

Except thou canft find 

Any one fo kind. 

that will dye and fet him free. 

Noble King ! fhe faid. 


Glad am I apaid ; 

that fame perfon will I be. 

I will fufFer duly. 

I will fuifer truly. 

for my love and huibands fake. 

The King thereat amazed. 

Conftance of Cleveland. 


Though he her beauty praifed, 

he bad from thence they fhould her take. 

It was the King's command, 

on the morrow after. 
She fhould out of hand 

to the fcaffold go : 
Her hulhand was 

to bear the fword before her ; 
He muft eke, alas ! 

give the deadly blow. 
He refus'd the deed ; 
She bid him to proceed 

with a thoufand kilTes fweet. 
In this wofull cafe 
They did both imbrace, 

which mov'd the ruffians, in that place, 
Straight for to difcover 
This concealed murder ; 

whereby the lady faved was. 
The harlot then was hanged. 
As fhe well deferved : 

this did vertue bring to pafTe. 



The Song of the Caps. 

To the Tune of " The Shaking of the Sheets." 

[This fpirited and humorous fong feems to have been founded, in 
fome of its points, upon the " Pleafant Dialogue or Difputation be- 
tweene the Cap and the Head," which profe fatire went through two ' 
editions, in 1564 and 1565 : (See the Bridgewater Catalogue, p. 46.) 
It is, however, more modern, and certainly cannot be placed earlier 
than the end of the reign of Elizabeth. It may be fufpe6ted, that it 
underwent fome changes, to adapt it to the times, when it was after- 
wards reprinted ; and we finally meet with it, but in a rather corrupted 
ftate, in a work publiftied in 1656, called " Sportive Wit : the Mufes 
Merriment, a new Spring of lufty Drollery," &c. The broadfide we 
have ufed was one of the many " printed for John Trundle," but it 
has no date.] 

HE wit hath long beholding been 
Unto the Cap to keep it in : 
Let now the wit flie out amaine, 
With praife to quit the Cap againe. 
The Cap, that owns the higheft part, 
Obtain'd that place by due defert ; 
For any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is ftill the iigne of fome degree. 

The Cap doth ftand, each man can fhow. 
Above a crown, but kings below : 
The Cap is neerer heaven than we, 
A greater lign of majeftie. 

The Song of the Caps. 

/ J 

When off the Cap we chance to take. 
Both head and feet obeyfance make ; 
For any Cap, whatcre it bee. 
Is ftill the ligne of fome degree. 

The Monmouth Cap, the faylors thrum. 
And that wherein the Taylors come ; 
The phyfick, lawe, the Cap divine, 
The fame that crowns the Mufes nine : 
The Cap the fools doe countenance. 
The goodly Cap of Maintenance, 
And any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is ftill the ligne of fome degree. 

The lickly Cap, both plaine & wrought. 
The fuddling Cap, however bought ; 
The quilted, furr'd, the velvet, fatin. 
For which fo many pates learn Latin : 
The crewell Cap, the fuftian pate. 
The perriwig, the Cap of late ; 

And any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 

The fouldiers, that the Monmouth wear. 
On caftle tops their enfignes rear : 
The faylors with their thrums doe ftand 
On higher place than all the land. 
The tradefman's Cap aloft is born 
By vantage of (fome fay) a horn. 


The Song of the Caps. 

Thus any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is flill the figne of fome degree. 

The phylick Cap to duft may bring 
Without controull the greatefl king : 
The lawyers Cap hath heavenly might 
To make a crooked caufe aright. 
Which, being round and endlefs, knows 
To make as endlefs any caufe. 
So any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is flill the ligne of fome degree. 

Both eaft and weft, and north and fouth. 
Where ere the Gofpell finds a mouth. 
The Cap divine doth thither looke. 
The fquare, like fchollars and their booke ; 
The reft are round, but this is fquare. 
To fhew that they more ftable are : 
For any Cap, whatere it be. 
Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 

The motley man a Cap doth weare 
That makes him fellow to a peere ; 
And 'tis no flender part of wit 
To a(5l the fool where great men fit. 
For folly is in fuch requeft 
That each man ftrives to do his befl. 
Thus any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 

The Song of the Caps. 


The lick man's Cap, not wrought with filk, 
Is, Hke repentant, white as milk. 
When hats in church drop off in hafte. 
This Cap ne'er leaves the head uncaftc : 
The Tick man's Cap, if wrought, can tell 
Though he be ill, his ftate is well. 
So any Cap, whatere it bee. 
Is ftill the figne of fome degree. 

The fuddling Cap, by Bacchus might, 

Turns night to day, and day to night ; 

Yet fpenders it prefers to more. 

Seeming to double all their ftore. 

The furr'd and quilted Cap of age 

Can make a mufty proverb fage ; 
And any Cap, whatere it bee. 
It is the figne of fome degree. • 

Though fuftian Caps be flender ware. 

The head is of no better gear. 

The crewell Cap is knit like hofe 

For them whofe zeale takes cold 'i' th' nofe ; 

Whofe purity doth judge it meete 

To clothe alike both head and feete. 

This Cap would faine, but cannot bee, 
The onely Cap of no degree. 

The Satin and the velvet hive 
Unto a biihoprick doe drive ; 


The Song of the Caps. 

Nay, when a file of Caps you're feen in, 
A fquare Cap this, and then a linen, 
This treble Cap may raife fome hope. 
If fortune fmile, to be a Pope. 

Thus any Cap, whatere it bee. 
May raife a man to high degree. 

The perriwig. Oh ! that declares 
The rife of flefh, though fall of hairs ; 
And none but graduates can proceede 
In finne fo far till this they neede. 
Before the Prince none covered are 
But thofe that to themfelves go bare : 
This Cap, of all the Caps that bee. 
Is now the figne of high degree. 


Sack for my Money. 

The Tune is "Wet and Weary." 

[A capital old drinking fong, probably of the time of James I, thoujh 
" Printed for W. (Jilbertfon in Giltfpur ftreet," fomc forty years 
afterwards. It gives not only the names of the principal wines then in 
ufe with various clafles, but the prices at which they were ordinarily 
fold. The old title is, " Sack for my Money ; or a defcription of the 
operation of Sack that is ftill'd in the Spanifli nation. 

Then buy it, deny it, like it or leave it. 

Not one amongft ten but is willing to have it." 

The printer, no doubt, made a blunder in not giving the words, " a 
defcription of the operation of Sack that is ftill'd in the Spanifh nation" 
as verfe, as well as the laft couplet.] 

OOD fellows all, both great and fmall, 
rejoyce at this my ditty ; 
Whilft I do fing, good newes I bring 
to the countrey and the city : 
Let every lad and lafs be glad 

(for who will true love fmother ?) 
And being here, my joy and dear, 

we'l kindly kifs each other. 
The purell: wine, fo briiT: and fine, 
the Alligant and Sherry, 
I hold it good to purge the blood, 
and make the fenfes merrv. 

A A 


Sack for my Money. 

'Tis fparkling Sack that binds the back. 

and cherifhes the heart, boys. 

For recompence juft eighteen pence 

you mufl give for a quart, boys : 

Away with beer and fuch Hke geer. 

that makes our fpirits muddy. 

For wine compleat will do the feat 

that we all notes can ftudy. 

The pureil wine, &c. 

Rich Malligo is pure, I know. 


to purge out melancholly. 

And he that's fick it cureth quick. 

and makes their fenfes jolly : 


It rariiies the dullefl eyes 

of thofe that are moil paler. 

And bravely can compofe a man 

of a very prick-lows taylor. 

The richeft wine, &c. 

The meerefl; fool fhall teach a fchool 

by Clarets operation. 

And make fome iight, like men of might. 

or champions of a nation : 

It is more fine then Brandewine, 

the Butterboxes potion. 

Who drinking dares in Neptunes wars 

reign mafter of the ocean. 

Sack for my Money. 


Canary Sack makes firm the back ; 

both AIHgant and Sherry 
Are proved good to clear the blood, 

and make the fenfes merry. 

A longing lals, whofe cuftard face 

her inward grief difclofes. 
With drinking wine, fo fweet and fine, 

will gain a pair of rofes : 
It doth revive dead folks alive, 

and helps their former weaknefs ; 
It is fo pure that it doth cure 

a maiden of her ficknefs. 

This Rhenifli wine, &c. 

The drawer ftill the fame fhall fill 

to elevate the heart, boys ; 
For Rhenifli gay you now mufl pay 

juft twelve pence for a quart, boys. 
Who would be ty'de to brewers fide, 

whofe meafures do fo var}', 
When we may fit, to raife our wit, 

with drinking of Canary ? 

The pureft wine, &c. 

The French wine pure, for 7 pence, fure, 
you iliall have choice and plenty. 

At this fame rate to drink in plate, 
which is both good and dainty : 


Sack for my Money. 

A maunding cove that doth it love, 
'twill make him dance and caper. 

And Captain PufF v^ill have enuff 
• to make him brag and vapor. 

The pureft wine, fo brifk and fine, 
the Alligant and Sherry, 

I hold it good to purge the blood, 
and make the fenfes merry. 

And alfo we that do agree 

as one for boon good fellows, 
We'l fing and laugh, and ftoutly quaff, 

and quite renounce the alehoufe ; 
For ale and beer are both now dear, 

the price is rais'd in either ; 
Then let us all, both great and fmall, 

to th' tavern walk together. 

The pureft wine, &c. 

The tradefinen may at any day, 

for their own recreation. 
Be welcome ftill to Ralph or Will, 

and have accommodation ; 
For why, their coyn will buy the wine 

and caufe a running barrel. 
But if you're drunk, your wits are funk, 

and gorrill'd guts will quarrel. 

The pureft wine, &c. 

Sack for my Money, 


The cobler faft will ftay the h\i\, 

for he's a lufly drinker ; 
He'l pawn his Ibul to have a bowl 

to drink to Tom the tinker : 
The broom-man he will be as free, 

to drink courageous flafhes : 
If cole grow fcant, before he'l want, 

he'l burn his brooms to afhes. 
The purefl: wine, fo brifk and fine, 

the Alligant and Sherry, 
I hold is befl: to give us reft, 

or make the fenfes merry. 

The fidling crowd that grow fo proud 

will pawn their pipes and fiddles, 
They'l ftrike and crack with bowls of Sack, 

and cut the queereft whiddles : 
They'l rant and tear like men of war, 

they voyces roar like thunder. 
And growing curft their fiddles burft, 

and break 'um all afunder. 

The purefl wine, &c. 

The country blades with their own maids, 

at every merry meetings. 
For ale and cakes at their town wakes, 

which they did give their fweetings. 


Sack for my Money. 

Upon their friend a crown will fpend 
in Sack that is fo trufty : 

'Twill pleafe a maid that is decay'd, 
and make a booby lufty. 

Be rul'd by me, and we'l agree 
to drink both Sack and Sherry, 

For that is good to cleanfe the blood. 

and make our fenfes merry. 




^ — 


The brave Englifh Gipfey. 

To the Tune of " The Spanifh Gipfey." 

[Attention had been called to Spanifh Gipfies by Middleton's play, 
(Works by Dyce, iv. loi.) which, though not printed until 1653, had 
perhaps been performed forty, or even fifty, years before : the fubfe- 
quent ballad, the earlieft of the kind, was written " to the tune of The 
Spanifh Gipfey," pofTibly exifting anterior to Middleton's work, or 
founded upon it. The imprint of the broadfide we have ufed is, " Lon- 
don, printed for John Trundle, at his Shop, neere the Hofpitall Gate in 
Smithfield," and from a paiTage in Ben Jonfon's " Every Man in his 
Humour," we find that he was a celebrated publifher of ballads as early 
as 1598 : the Elder Knowell (the chara6ler fuppofed to have been fuf- 
tained by Shakefpeare) fays, " Well, if I read this with patience I'll 
# # * # troll ballads for mafter John Trundle, yonder, the reft of my 
mortality." Trundle was alfo a general publifher of popular works and 
tracls, and lived in Cripplegate.] 

OME follow, follow all ! 
'Tis Englifli gipfies call. 
All you that love your lives. 
Here's thofe that profit drives : 
We fare well when thoufands lacke ; 
None of us can credits cracke. 

If we to gallants come. 
The country people run. 

1 84 

'I'he brave Engliih Gipfey. 

To fee what we can doe ; 
Such paines they undergoe : 
Serioufly, a number ftrives 
To lead the EngUfh Gipfies Hves. 

We humor none that Hves, 

Nor hate no man that gives : 

Ambition doth not reft 

I'th' EngHfh Gipfie's breft. 

If they give, weele wilUng take ; 

Nought that's good will we forfake. 


We ufe all things are quaint ; - 

With painters we can paint ; 

Our dye is not in vaine. 

For we doe dye in graine : 

The walnut tree fupplies our lacke ; 

What was made faire, we can make black. 

We take a formall courfe. 

Some fixe upon a horfe : 

We lingle fcorne to ride. 

Our horfe doth want no guide. 

We by turnes will take our eafe. 

And live all humors for to pleafe. 

We fcorne for to entice 
With beauty gallants' eyes ; 

The brave Englifli Gipfey. 


We bearc no bcciutious face 

Our fubtile lllghtes to grace : 

We can paint when we command, 

And looke like Indians that are tand. 

We pradtife not to dance. 

Nor learne no tunes from France : 

Our knockers make no noife. 

We are no roaring boyes. 

Englifh Giplies live all free, 

And love and live moft jovially. 

Our fare is of the beft ; 

Three times a weeke we feaft. 

Nay, fometimes every day. 

And yet for nothing pay. 

For beefe or bacon, geefc or hens ; 

What we eate is other mens. 

Sometimes where great men dwell. 

We doe their fortunes tell : 

Our paines for to requite, 

We diet there all night. 

In this life we fpend our dayes : 

Englilh Gipfie lawes obayes. 

We feare to wrong the law. 

We live in fervile awe. 

B li 


The brave Englifh Gipfey. 

Yet wherefoere wee goe. 

We feldome find a foe ; 

Wherefoere we come, we find. 

For one that hates, an hundred kind. 

Pleafure we have ftore. 

Who can delire more ? 

All doth our paines requite ; 

Then frolike we all night: 

Mongft our felves we dance and fing ; 

Night content to us doth bring. 

What ere we get all day. 

That night doth fly away ; 

We hoord not up our ftore. 

For next day we have more : 

Feafl: our felves with gallant cheere. 

Spare no coft for wine or beere. 


To drinke, be drunke, and tiplie. 

Delights the Englifh Gipfie : 

We live to love all thofe 

Who are no Giplies foes. 

Some decay'd mongft gallants ftrives 

To leade the Englifh Gipfies lives. 

We beare this honeft mind 

To love all friends are kind : 

The brave Englilh Gipfcy. 

Our foes we can requite 

With hatred and defpight ; 

For we can plague our mortall foe, 

Yet he the adtors never know. 

Great flore of coyne we gaine. 

Yet for it take no paine : 

Our diet's feldom fought. 

For it is to us brought : 

Pigs, or geefcy or brawne, or fowce. 

Or any meat that's in the houfe. 

Ther's many iland in feare. 

When we approach but neere : 

Sometimes our very fight 

The children doth affright. 

Our names are fpred both far and neere ; 

Our friends we love, but dread no feare. 

We hate all furly llaves. 

Nor love no cunning knaves : 

Our felves can cunning ufe. 

Yet none we will abufe. 

He that freely gives fliall find 

The Englifli Gipfies alwaies kind. 


Who ere hath bin in Spaine, 
And feene there Gipfie's vaine. 


The brave Englifh Gipfey. 

Shall foone the difference find, 
Elfe judgement makes him blind. 
So, Spanifh Gipiies, all adoe ! 
For Englifli equall are to you. 



The Subftance of all the 

late entended Treafons. 

[We here introduce another new name to the ftudent of our early 
ballad poetry — Thomas Nelfon ; but what he wrote beyond this produc- 
tion is not known. We have already mentioned (p. 127), a perform- 
ance of the fame kind by Thomas Deloney on the fame event, the 
execution of Ballard, Babbington, Sec. The following contains fome 
new hiftorical points, and in the outfct prefents a fingular picture of Lon- 
don rejoicing at the difcovery and capture of the traitors. The burden 
to be fung at the end of every verfe, though no tune is mentioned, is 
given immediately after the title : it was " Imprinted at London by 
George Robinfon for Edward White, and are to be folde at his (hop at 
the figne of the Gun."] 

LORD, preferve our noble Queene, her 

Counfaile long maintaine : 
Confound her foes, and graunt her grace In 

health to rule and raigne. 

When firft the gracious God of heaven by meanes did 

bring to light 
The treafons lately prad:ifed by many a wicked wight, 
Againll: their Prince whole life thei fought, and many 

a noble Peere, 
The fubftaunce of whofe treafons ftraunge, you ihall 

moft truely heare ; 


The Subftance of all the 

Their treafons once difcovered, then were the Tray- 
tors fought. 

Some of them fled into a wood, where after they were 

And, being brought unto the Tower, for joye the belles 
did ring, 

And throughout London bonfires made, where people 
pfalmes did fing. 

And fet their tables in the flreates with meates of every 

kinde ; 
There was preparde all fignes of joye that could be had 

in minde. 
And praifde the Lord moft hartely, that with his 

mightie hand. 
He had preferved our gracious Queene, and people of 

this land. 

Which thing was taken in good parte by our renowmed 

Who by her letters gave them thankes, as plainly may 

be feene ; 
AfTuring them that all her care was for their fafetie ftill. 
And that thereby fhe would deferve their love and 

great good will. 

The Traytors well examined (whom God himfelf 

late entendcd Treafons. 

Their treafons knownc, then were they llraight to 

Weftminfter convayed, 
Whereas they all indited were of many a vilde pretence, 
Seaven pleaded giiiltie at the harre before they went 

from thence. 

The maner how they did begin herein will plaine 

appeare ; 
Their purpofes in each refpedt you fliall moft truely 

heare : 
Herein unto you will be feene, if they had not bene 

Our Queene, our realme, yea, rich and poore together 

had bene fpoylde. 

One Savidge lurking long in Fraunce, at Rheames did 

there remaine, 
Whom Docflor Gifford did perfwade great honor he 

fliould gaine. 
If that he would goe take in hand (thefe matters veiy 

Firft to deprive our gracious Queene, religion for to 

chaunge ; 

And then for to envade the realme by trowpes of 

forraine power. 
To overthrowe the government, and kill her in her 

bower ; 



192 ! The Subftance of all the 

Orforceably to difpofTefle the Queene of Englands grace, 
And to proclaime the Scottifh Queene, and fet her in 
her place. 

Which matter Savidge promifed his full performance 

So that he might fee warrant with fafe confcience fo 

to do : 
The Doctor vowed by his fowle, and bad hirn under- 

It was an honorable thing to take the fame in hand. 

When Savidge heard that merits were to him thereby 

fo rife. 
He vowed for to doe the fame, or els to lofe his life. 
And fhortly into England hyed, and did imparte the 

To Babington of Darbyfhire, a man fure voyde of fhame : 

And tolde him how that he had vowed to doe it, or to dye, 
Defiring him of helpe and ayde, and that immediatly. 
A Jefuit prieft, whom Ballard hight, came over to 

that end. 
He came alfo to Babington, and daylie did attend. 

Still to perfwade him that he would attempt and take 

in hand. 
This vilde and wicked enterprife and ftoutly to it ftand ; 

late entcnded Treafons. 


And tolde him that he lliould have ayde of fixtie 

thoufand men, [when. 

That fecretly fhould landed be, and tolde him how and 

And in refpedl of all his paines he truely might depende, 
That it was lawfull fo to doe, renowne (liouldbe the ende ; 
But let all Traytors now perceive what honor he hath 

Whofe trayterous head and wicked heart hath many 

one undonne. 

This proude and haughtie Babington, in hope to gaine 
renowne, [towne. 

Did ftirre up many wilful! men in many a fhire and 
To ayde him in this devilifh ad:, and for to take in hand 
The fpoyle of our renowmed Prince, and people of 
this land. 

Who did conclude with bloudie blade a flaughter to 
commit, [lit : 

Upon her Counfell as they iliould within Star Chamber 

Which is a place whereas the Lords, and thofe of that 

Yeelde juftice unto every man that crave it on their knee. 

Yea, famous London they did meane for to have fackt 

Both Maior and Magiftrates therein have murdered at 

that tide. 

c c 


The Subftance of all the 

Each rich mans goods had bene their owne, no favour 

then had fervde. 
Nought but our wealth was their defire, though we 

and ours had ftarvde. 

Beiides thefe wicked pradlifes they had concluded more, 
The burning of the navie, and the cheefeft fhippes in 

ftore : 
With fier and fworde they vowed to kill and to difplace 
Each Lord, Knight, and Magiftrate, true fubjefts to 

her Grace. 

fpiked They had determinde to have cloyde, and poyfoned 

out of hand. 
The cheefe and greatefl Ordinaunce that is within 

this land. 
And did entend by violence on rich men for to fall. 
To have their money and their plate, and to have fpoyld 

them all. 

The Common wealth of England foone fhould thereby 

have bene fpoylde. 
Our goodes for which our Parents and our felves long 

tyme had toylde. 
Had all bene taken from us, befides what had enfued. 
The fubftance proveth plainly, to foone we had all had 

re wed. 

Thofe were the treafons they confpirde, our good 
Queene to difplace. 

late entended Treafons. 


To fpoyle the ftates of all this land, fuch was their 

want of grace. 
But God that doth protecft her ftill, offended at the fame. 
Even in their young and tender yeres did cut them of 

with iliame. 

Thefe Traytors executed were on ftage full ftrongly 

Even on the place where wickedly they had their 

treafons fought : 
There they were hangde and quartered, there they 

acknowledgd why, [to dye. 

Who, like as Traytors they hadlivde, evenfo they feemde 

O wicked impes, O Traytors vilde, that could thefe 

deedes devife ! 
Why did the feare of God and Prince departe fo from 

your eyes ? 
No rebelles power can her difplace, God will defend 

her ftill ; 
True fubjecfls all will lofe their lives ere Traytors have 

their will. 

How many mifchiefes are devifde, how many waies 

are wrought, 
How many vilde confpiracies againfther Grace is fought : 
Yet God that doth proted: her ftill her Grace doth 

well preferve, [ferve. 

And workes a ftiame unto her foes, as they doe heft de- 


The late entended Treafons. 

O heavenly God! preferve ourQueene in plentie, health, 

and peace ; 
Confound her foes, maintaine her right, her joyes, O 

Lord ! encreafe : 
Lord, blefle her Counfaile evermore and nobles of this 

Preferve her fubieds and this realme vv^ith thy mofl 

mightie hand. 

Thomas Nelson. 


The Bulls Feather. 

To a very pkafant New Tune^ or The Bull's Feather. 

[This is a comparatively modern reprint of a much older comic bal- 
lad : the only copy icnown was ^' Printed for F. Coles, J. Wright, and 
J. Clarke ; " but it probably firft came out long before their time. The 
title at length is this : " The Bull's Feather ; being the Good-fellows 
Song, ufually fung at their Merry-meeting in Bulls Feather Hall, who 
fent this fong to their Brethren (of what degree or quality) in praife of 
the Bulls Feather, 

And to all Cuckolds, who think it no fcorn. 

To wear the Bulls Feather, though made of a horn."] 

>T chanced, not long ago, 
as I was walking. 
An eccho did bring me where 
two were a talking : 
'Twas a man faid to his wife, 

dye had I rather. 
Than to be cornuted, and 
wear the Bulls Feather. 

Then prefently fhe reply 'd ; 

fweet, art thou jealous ? 
Thou can'ft not play "Vulcan, 

before I play Venus : 


The Bulls Feather. 

Thy fancies are foolifh, fuch 

follies to gather. 
For there's many an honefl man 

wears the Bulls Feather. 

Though it be invifible, 

let no man it fcorn, 
Being it is a new feather 

made of an old horn : 
He that difdains it in 

mind, or in heart either. 
May be the more fubjed; 

to wear the Bulls Feather. 

He that lives difcontented, 

or in difpair. 
And feareth falfe meafure, 

becaufe his wife's fair. 
His thoughts are inconftant, 

much like winter weather : 
Though one or two want it, 

he fhall have a Feather. 

Bulls Feathers are common 

as ergo i'th' fchools. 
And only contemned by 

thofe that are fools : 
Why fhould a Bulls Feather 

caufe any unreft. 

The Bulls Feather. 


Since neighbours fare always 
is counted the bcft ? 

Thofe women who are faireft 

are Hkefi: to give it, 
And hufbands that have them 

are apt to believe it. 
Some men, though their wives 

they feem for to tether. 
They would play the kind neighbors, 

and give the Bulls Feather. 

Why fhould we repine 

that our wives are fo kind. 
Since we that are hufbands, 

are of the fime mind ? 
Shall we give them feathers, 

and think to go free ? 
Believe it, believe it, 

that hardly will be. 

For he that difdains my 

Bulls Feather to day. 
May light of a lafs that 

will play him foul play. 
There's ne'r a proud gallant, 

that tread's on cows leather. 
But may be cornuted, and 

wear the Bulls Feather. 


The Bulls Feather. 

The fliorteft, the talleft, 

the fouleft, the faireft. 
The fatteft, the leaneft, 

the commoneft, the rareft. 
When they and their Dicks 

are all merry together. 
Will be ufing tricks 

to advance the Bulls Feather. 

A King and a cobler, 

a lord and a loon, 
A prince and a pedler, 

a courtier and a clown. 
Put all their degrees and 

conditions together. 
Are liable always to 

wear the Bulls Feather. 

Though beer of that brewing 

I never did drink. 
Yet be not difpleafed, if I 

fpeak what I think : 
Scarce ten in an hundred, 

believe it, believe it. 
But either they will have it, 
or elfe they will give it. 

Then, let me advife 

all thofe that do pine 

'The Bulls Feather. 


For fear that falfe jealoulie 

fhorten their hne. 

That difeafe will torment them 

worfe than any feavor ; 

Then let all be contented, and 

wear the Bulls Feather. 





(T/, '^ <._/ " ' THiii^^^a 






D D 


The Weft Country Damofels 

To the Tune of " Johnny Armftrong." 

[From its form and character this ballad may be confidered one of 
the earlieft in the volume, and it was written to a very old tune. The 
long title and the lines forming part of it were probably meant for 
attra6tive additions when the broadfide was " Printed by P. Brookfby, 
at the Golden Bull in Weftfmith-field, neer the Hofpitall Gate:" it 
runs as follows: — "The Weft-Country Damofel's Complaint, or 
The Faithful Lover's laft Farewel : Being the relation of a young 
Maid, who pined herfelf to death for the love of a Young-man, who, 
after he had notice of it, dyed likewife for grief. 

Carelefs Young-men, by this warning take. 
How you kind Virgins (when they love) forfake ; 
Leaft the fame fate o're-take you, and you dye 
For breach of vows, and infidelity. 
Be kind, but fweare no more than what you mean, 
Leaft comick jefts become a tragick fcean."] 

HEN will you marry me, William, 
and make me your wedded wife ? 
Or take you your keen bright fword, 
and rid me out of my life. 


Say no more fo then, lady, 

fay you no more then fo. 
For you fhall unto the wild forreft, 

and amongfl the buck and doe. 

The Damofcrs Complaint. 

Where thou fliah eat of the hips and haws, 
and the roots that are fo Iweet, 

And thou ihalt drink of the cold water 
that runs underneath your feet. 


Now had {he not been in the wild forrefl 
paffing three months and a day, 

But with hunger and cold (he had her fill, 
till file was quite worn away. 

At laft fhe faw a fair tyl'd houfe, 
and there flie fwore by the rood. 

That fhe would to that fair tyl'd houfe, 
there for to get her Ibme food. 

But when fhe came unto the gates, 

aloud, aloud flie cry'd. 
An alms, an alms, my own fifter ! 

I aflc you for no pride. 

Her fifler call'd up her merry men all, 

by one, by two and by three. 
And bid them hunt away that wild doe, 

as far as e're they could fee. 

They hunted her o're hill and dale, 

and they hunted her fo fore. 
That they hunted her into the forrefl, 

where her forrows grew more and more. 


The Weft-Country 

She laid a flone all at her head, 

and another all at her feet. 
And down fhe lay between thefe two, 

till death had lull'd her afleep. 

When fweet Will came and "flood at her head, 

and likewife flood at her feet, 
A thoufand times he kifs'd her cold lips, 

her body being faft aileep. 

Yea, feaven times he ftood at her feet, 

and feaven times at her head ; 
A thoufand times he fhook her hand, 

although her body was dead. 

Ah, wretched me ! he loudly cry'd, 

what is it that I have done ? 
O, wou'd to the powers above Fde dy'd, 

when thus I left her alone ! 

Come, come you gentle red-breaft now, 

and prepare for us a tomb, 
Whilfl unto cruel Death I bow, 

and ling like a fwan my doom. 

Why could I ever cruel be 

unto fo fair a creature ; 
Alas ! Ihe dy'd for love of me, 

the lovelieft fhe in nature ! 

For me fhe left her home fo fair 
to wander in this wild grove. 

Damofers Complaint. 


And there with fighs and penlive care, 
£he ended her Hfe for love. 

O conftancy ! in her thou'rt loft ; 

now let women boaft no more. 
She's fled unto the Elizian coaft, 

and with her carry'd the ftore. 

O, break, my heart with Ibrrow iill'd, 
come, fwell you ftrong tides of grief ! 

You that my dear love have kill'd, 
come, yield in death to me relief. 

Cruel her fifter, was't for me 
that to her (he was unkind ? 

Her hufband I will never be, 

but with this my love be joyn'd. 

Grim Death ihall tye the marriage bands, 
which jealoulie fhan't divide ; 

Together fliall tye our cold hands, 
whilft here we lye lide by iide. 

Witnefs, ye groyes, and chr\'ftal ftreams, 
how faithlefs I late have been ; 

But do repent with dying leaves 
of that my ungrateful fin ; 

And wiih a thoufand times that I 
had been but to her more kind. 

And not have let a virgin dye, 

whofe equal there's none can find. 

The Damofel's Complaint. 

Now heaps of forrow prefs my foul ; 

now, now 'tis fhe takes her way. 
I come, my love, without controule, 

nor from thee will longer flay. 

With that he fetched a heavy groan, 
which rent his tender breafl:. 

And then by her he laid him down, 
when as Death did give him reft. 

Whilfl mournful birds, with leavy bows, 

to them a kind burial gave. 
And warbled out their love-fick vows, 

whilft they both flept in their grave. 



Common Cries of London. 

To the Tune of " Watton Towns End." 

[It is impofTible to aflign a precife date to the following ballad, re- 
lating to the popular purfuits and cuftoms of London in the early part 
of the feventeenth centurv\ The flrft ftanza of the fecond part fhcws, 
that the Curtain, Cjlobe, Swan, and Red-Bull theatres were then open, 
but the dates when any of them were permanently clofed cannot be 
ftated with certainty : John Shancke, who is mentioned by name, was 
a popular adtor from 1603 to 1635, when he died. (See the life 
of Shancke, in the " Memoirs of Shakefpeare's A6lors," printed by 
the Shakefpeare Society, p. 276.) The allufion to carrying perfons to 
the play-houfes by water is alfo a curious note of time. There were 
feveral old a6lors of the name of Turner ; and W. Turner may have 
been upon the ftage, and may have compofed and fung this production 
as " a jig" for the amufement of audiences. It was " Printed for 
F. C, T. V. and W. G." in 1662, but that was unqueftionably not 
the firft impreflion of it, although we know of no other : the full title 
runs thus : — 

" The Common Cries of London Town : 

Some go up ftreet, fome go down. 

With Turner's Difh of Stuff, or a Gallymaufer}'." 

The tune is the fame as " Peg a' Ramfey,"mentioned by Shakefpeare 
in Twelfth Night, and is at leaft as old as 1589.] 

Y mailers all, attend you, 

if mirth you love to heare. 
And I will tell you what they cry 
in London all the yeare. 


The Common Cries of T/ondon. 

He pleafe you if I can. 

I will not be too long : 

I pray you all attend awhile. 

and liflen to my fong. 

The fifh-wife firft begins. 

Anye mufcles lilly white ! } 

Herrings, fprats or place. 

or cockles for delight. 

Anye welflet oyfters ! 

Then fhe doth change her note : 

She had need to have her tongue be greas'd. 

for {he rattles in the throat. 

For why, the are but Kentifh, 


to tell you out of doubt : 

Her meafure is too little ; 

goe, beat the bottom out. 

Half a peck for two pence ? 

I doubt it is a bodge. 

Thus all the City over 

the people they do dodge. 

The wench that cries the kitchin fluff. 

I marvel what fhe ayle. 

She fings her note fo merry. 

but fhe hath a draggle tayle : 

An empty car came running. 

and hit her on the bum ; 

The Common Cries of London. 


Down flie threw her grcafie tub, 
and away ftraight flie did run. 

But flie did give her blefling 

to fome, but not to all. 

To bear a load to Tyburne, 
and there to let it fall : 

The miller and his golden thumb. 

and his dirty neck. 

If he grind but two bufhels. 

he muft needs fteal a peck. 

The weaver and the taylor. 

cozens they be fure, 
They cannot work but they muft fteal, 
to keep their hands in ure ; 

For it is a common proverb 
thorowout the town. 

The taylor he mufi; cut three lleeves 

to every womans gown. 

Mark but the waterman 

attending for his fare. 

Of hot and cold, of wet and dry. 

he alwaies takes his fhare : 

He carrieth bonny lafies 

over to the playes, 
And here and there he gets a bit, 

and that his ftomach ftaies. 

E E 


I'he Common Cries of T/ondon. 

There was a linging boy 

who did ride to Rumford ; 

When I go to my own fchool 

I will take him in a comfort ; 

But what I leave behind 

fhall be no private gain ; 

But all is one when I am gone : 

let him take it for his pain. 

Old fhoes for new brooms ! 

the broom-man he doth ling, 

For hats or caps or bufkins. 

or any old pouch ring. 

Buy a mat, a bed-mat ! 

a haifock or a prelTe, 

A cover for a clofe ftool. 

a bigger or a lefTe. 

Ripe, cherry ripe ! 

the cofler-monger cries ; 

Pippins fine or pears ! 

another after hies. 

With bafket on his head 

his living to advance. 

And in his purfe a pair of dice 

for to play at mumchance. 

Hot pippin pies ! 

to fell unto my friends. 

The Common Cries of London 

2 I I 

Or pudding pies in pans, 

well ftuft with candles ends. 

Will you buy any milk ? 

I heard a wench that cries : 

With a pale of frelh cheefe and cream, 
another after hies. 

Oh ! the wench went neatly ; 

me thought it did me good, 
to fee her cherry cheeks 

fo dimpled ore with blood : 
Her waiftcoat wailied white 

as any lilly floure ; 
Would I had time to talk with her 

the fpace of half an hour. 

Buy black ! faith the blacking man, 

the befl that ere was {ten ; 
Tis good for poore citizens 

to make their fhooes to fliine. 
Oh ! tis a rare commodity, 

it muft not be forgot ; 
It wil make them to glifter gallantly, 

and quickly make them rot. 

The world is full of thread-bare poets 

that live upon their pen. 
But they will write too eloquent, 

they are fuch witty men. 

21 2 

The Common Cries of T .ondon. 

But the tinker with his budget, | 

the beggar with his wallet. 

And Turners turnd a gallant man 

at making of a ballet. 


To the fame Tune. 

' 1 'THAT'S the fat foole of the Curtin, 
-^ and the lean fool of the Bull : 


Since Shancke did leave to fing his rimes. 

he is counted but a gull. 

The players on the Banckefide, 

the round Globe and the Swan, 

Will teach you idle tricks of love. 

but the Bull will play the man. 

But what do I ftand tattling 

of fuch idle toyes ? 

I had better go to Smith-Field 

to play among the boyes : 

But you cheating and deceiving lads. 

with your bafe artillery. 

I would wifh you to fhun Newgate, 

and withall the pillory. 

And fome there be in patcht gownes. 

I know not what they be. 

The Common Cries of London 

2 I 

That pinch the country-man 

with nimming of a fee ; 
For where they get a booty, 

they'le make him pay fo dear, 
They'le entertain more in a day, 

then he fhall in a year. 

Which makes them trim up houfes 

made of brick and ftone. 
And poor men go a begging, 

when houfe and land is gone. 
Some there be with both hands 

will fwear they will not dally. 
Till they have turn'd all uplide down, 

as many ufe to fally. 

You pedlers, give good meafure, 

when as your wares you fell : 
Tho' your yard be fhort, your thum will flip ; 

Your tricks I know full well. 
And you that fell your wares by weight, 

and live upon the trade. 
Some beams be falfe, fome waits too light ; 

Such tricks there have been plaid. 

But fmall coals, or great coals ! 

I have them on my back : 
The goofe lies in the bottom ; 

you may hear the duck cry quack. 

214 The Common Cries of London. 

Thus Grim, the black colher, 
whofe living is fo loofe. 

As he doth walk the commons ore, 
fometimes he fteals a goofe. 

Thou ufurer with thy money bags 

that liveft fo at eafe. 
By gaping after gold thou doft 

thy mighty God difpleafe ; 
And for thy greedy ufury, 

and thy great extortion. 
Except thou doil repent thy lins, 

hell fire will be thy portion. 

For firfl I came to Houns-Ditch, 

then round about I creep. 
Where cruelty was crowned chief 

and pity fail afleep : 
Where ufury gets profit, 

and brokers bear the bell. 
Oh, fie upon this deadly fin ! 

it finks the foul to hell. 

The man that fweeps the chimnyes 
with the bufh of thorns. 

And on his neck a trufi^e of poles 
tipped all with horns. 

With care he is not cumbred, 
he liveth not in dread ; 

The Common Cries of London, 

For though he wear them on his pole, 
fome wear them on their head. 

The landlord with his racking rents 

turns poor men out of dore ; 
Their children go a begging 

where they have fpent their ftore. 
I hope none is offended 

with that which is endited : 
If any be, let him go home 

and take a pen and write it. 

Buy a trap, a moufe trap, 

a torment for the fleas ! 
The hangman works but half the day ; 

he lives too much at eafe. 
Come let us leave this boyes play 

and idle prittle prat. 
And let us go to nine holes, 

to fpurn-point, or to cat. 

Oh ! you nimble fingered lads 

that live upon your wits. 
Take heed of Tyburn ague, 

for they be dangerous fits ; 
For many a proper man, 

for to fupply his lack. 
Doth leap a leap at Tyburn, 

which makes his neck to crack. 



The Common Cries of London, 

And to him that writ this fong 

I give this fimple lot : 
Let every one be ready 

to give him half a pot. 
And thus I do conclude, 

wifhing both health and peace 
To thofe that are laid in their bed, 

and cannot fleep for fleas. 

W. Turner. 

2 1 

The Two Valentines. 

The Tune is^ " Did you fee Nan to Day." 

[An early fong upon the much earlier cuftom of chufing Valentines. 
In Deloney's " Garland of Goodwill," which came out anterior ti > 1 596, 
there is a ballad to the tune of" My Valentine," but not at all like the 
prefent. Our broadfide was not printed until the middle of the feven- 
teenth century "for Y. Coles, T. Vere and W. Gilbertfon;" and the full 
title is, " A pleafant new Song of two Valentines and their Lovers."] 

OOD morrow, Valentine : 
God blefle you ever ! 
Kind in your promifes, 
Faithfull as ever. 
Be thou flill true to me. 
The kindefl heart He be 
That ever you did fee. 

Kifle me, and good morrow. 

I like my choyfe fo well. 

Love doth compell me. 
And force my tongue to tell. 

The truth is I love thee : 
Kindly I do rcqueft. 
That in your heart and breft 
My love may ever reft. 

KiiTe me, and good morrow. 

F F 


The Two Valentines. 

There was never kind fweet heart. 

That lufted for pleafure. 
Could find fuch a Valentine, 

Faffing all treafure. 
I have obtain'd the thing. 
Which to my heart doth bring 
Great joy, which makes me fing, 
KilTe me, and good morrow. 

When others fleep in bed, 

I lye ftill mufing, 
To think on my good hap 

I had in chufing ; 
To find fuch a Valentine 
Bearing a faithfull mind. 
Courteous in love, and kind. 

Kifle me, and good morrow. 

There is an old proverb. 

That birds of a feather 
Upon St. Valentines day 
Will meet together: 
So, when true lovers meet. 
With many a kiffe full fweet. 
That day each other greet. 

With kifie and good morrow. 

All you that have Valentines, 
If they be faithful. 


The Two Valentines. 

2 I 9 

You have a great blelling ; 

Therefore be thankfull, 
And kind to them again. 
For elfe, I tel you plain, 
Much love is fpent in vain. 

Kille, and good morrow. 

If my Valentine for my fake 
Would be a neat-heard. 
Well could I find in heart 

To be a fhepheard ; 
To keep fheep on a hill. 
So I might have my will. 
To talk with her my fill. 
While my flock fcatters. 

Shall I live to deny 

My Valentine for ever ? 
Refrain her company ? 

That I will never. 
For if I her refrain, 
I muft not come again : 
Not for all worldly gain. 

For love lafts ever. 

Adieu to my true love. 
Whom I loved ever : 

When I am out of fight, 

Let not your mind waver. 


The Two Valentines. 

Though Valentine's day be gone, 
And we not both as one, 
My love to thee alone 
Shall be for ever. 

Good night to my Valentine. 

Now I have ended. 
To ftay any longer, 

I cannot intend it. 
I wifh all young men kind. 
That bear a faithful mind. 
To give their Valentine 

A kifTe, and good morrow. 


The Great Boobee. 

To a pleafant new Tune^ or " Sellengers Round." 

[A remarkable and very droll ballad, relating to old manners and 
amufemcnts : by various allufions in it we may aflign it to the reign of 
James I. In a previous production (p. 157) we have had the " pic- 
tures" at the Royal Exchange mentioned, and we are to take "pic- 
tures," here as well as there, in the fenfe of ftatues : the words were 
fometimes fynonymous : thus, in " The Hiftory of Euordanus," 1605, 
we read of a tent " on the top of which flood Cupid, &c. aiming direftly 
at a fair pi6ture of marble." Statues were often formerly painted, and 
this perhaps led to the error, which explains naturally the delufion 
of Leontes in " The Winter's Tale," There were few tunes more 
ancient than Sellengers Round : Sir John Hawkins tells us, that it is 
" the oldeft country dance known," but this does not feem to be quite 
correil : (See Chappell's Nat. Engl. Airs II. 76,) It was exceflively 
popular, from the middle of the reign of Elizabeth to the days of Dur- 
fey. The enfuing ballad was " Printed for F. Coles in Wine ftrect, 
on SafFron-hill, near Hatton Garden."] 

Y friend, if you will underfland 
my fortunes what they are, 
I once had cattel, houfe, and land, 
but now am never the near : 
My father left a good eftate, 

as I may tell to thee ; 
I couzned was of all I had, 
like a great Boobee. 


The Great Boobee. 

I went to fchool with good intent, 

and for to learn my book. 
And all the day I went to play ; 

in it I never did look. 
Full feven years, or very nigh, 

as I may tell to thee, 
I could hardly fay my Chrift-Crofs Row, 

like a great Boobee. 

My father, then, in all the hafte 

did fet me to the plow, 
And for to lafh the horfe about, 

indeed, I knew not how : 
My father took his whip in hand, 

and foundly lafhed me ; 
He called me fool, and country clown, 

and great Boobee. 

But I did from my father run, 

for I will plow no more, 
Becaufe he had fo flafhed me, 
and made my iides fo fore ; 
But I will go to London town, 

fome vafhions for to fee : 
When I came there, they call'd me clown, 

and great Boobee. 

But as I went along the ftreet 
I carried my hat in my hand. 

The Great Boobee. 


And to every one that I did meet 

I bravely bent my band : 
Some did laugh, and fome did feoff, 

■ and fome did mock at me. 
And fome did fay I was a woodcock, 

and a great Boobee. 

Then I did walk in hail: to Pauls, 

the fteeple for to view, 
Becaufe I heard fome people fay 

it fhould be builded new. 
When I got up unto the top, 

the city for to fee. 
It was fo high, it made me cry, 

like a great Boobee. 

From thence I went to Weftminfter, 

and for to fee the tombs : 
O ! faid I, what a houfe is here, 

with an infinite fight of rooms. 
Sweetly the Abbey bells did ring, 

it was a fine fight to fee ; 
Methought I was going to Heaven in a ftring, 

like a great Boobee. 

But as I went along the ftreet 

the moffc part of the day. 
Many gallants did I meet ; 

methought they were very gay. 


The Great Boobee. 

I blew my nofe, and ray'd my hofe ; 

fome people did me fee. 
And faid I was a beaflly fool, 

and a great Boobee. 

Next day I through Pye-corner paft ; 

the roaft-meat on the ftall 
Invited me to take a tafte ; 

my money was but fmall : 
The meat I pickt, the cook me kickt, 

as I may tell to thee, 
He beat me fore, and made me rore, 

like a great Boobee. 

As I through Smithfield lately walkt 

a gallant lafs I met ; 
Familiarly with me fhe talkt, 

Which I cannot forget : 
She profferd me a pint of wine, 

methought fhe was wondrous free. 
To the tavern then I went with her, 

like a great Boobee. 

She told me we were next of kin, 
and calld for wine good ftore 

Before the reckoning was brought in, 
my coufm was no more. 

My purfe fhe pickt and went away, 
my coulin couzned me ; 

The Great Boobee. 


The Vintner kickt me out of door, 
like a great Boobee. 

At the Exchange, when I came there, 

I faw mofi: gallant things ; 
I thought the pictures living were 

of all our Englifh kings : 
I doft my hat, and made a leg, 

and kneeled on my knee : 
The people laught, and call'd me fool, 

and great Boobee. 

To Paris Garden then I went, 

where there is great refort : 
My pleafure was my punifliment, 

I did not like the fport. 
The garden bull with his ftout horns 

on high then toiled me, 
I did bewray my felf with fear 

like a great Boobee. 

The Bearheard went to fave me then, 

the people flockt about ; 
I told the Bear-garden men 

my guts were almoft out : 
They faid I flunk moft grievoufly, 

no man would pity me ; 
They call'd me witlefs fool and afs, 

and great Boobee. 

G G 


The Great Boobee. 

Then o're the water did I pafs, 

as you fhall underftand : 
I dropt into the Thames, alas ! 

before I came to land : 
The waterman did help me out, 

and thus did fay to me, 
'Tis not thy fortune to be drownd, 

like a great Boobee. 

But I have learned fo much wit 

fhall fhorten all my cares. 
If I can but a licenfe get 

to play before the bears : 
'Twill be a gallant place indeed, 

as I may tell to thee ; 
Then who dares call me fool, or afs, 

or great Boobee ? 

The Tragedy of Hero and 


To a pleafant New Tune^ or " I will never love thee more." 

[This ballad is founded upon the 

" Story of deep love. 

How young Leander crofT'd the HcUefpont," 

which was firfl: made known in Englifh by Chrifliopher Marlowe in 
his verfion, publifhed in 1598, five years after his death. Our broad- 
fide, " Printed for R. Burton, at the Horfefhoe in Wefl:-Smithfield,neer 
the Hofpital-gate," is not lb early by twenty or thirty years ; but we 
apprehend, it muft have been written, and firft printed, foon after Mar- 
lowe's paraphrafe (completed by Chapman in 1600) had made the 
incidents popular. It was the work of no very inferior hand, (though 
evidently corrupted in the copy that has come down to us) and every 
body will recognife the tranflation of A'lartial's well-known epigram 
at the clofe of the fecond-ftanza. In the Pepyfian collection, is a 
ballad, figned William Meafh, on the fame incidents but a different 
produdlion, entitled " Leander's Love for loyall Hero : " that was " im- 
printed at London for J. W."] 

OME, mournful Mufe, alTifl: my quill, 
whilft I with grief relate 
A flory of two lovers true, 
cut oil by cruel fate. 
Death onely parts united hearts, 

and brings them to their graves ; 
Whilft others fleep within the deep, 
or perifli in the waves. 


The Tragedy of 

Leander on the bay of blifs, 

Pontus, he naked ftood : 
In paffion of delay he fprang, 

into the fatal flood. 
The raging feas can none appeafe, 

his fortune ebbs and flows, 
The heaven down Ihowres, and rain down powers, 

and the wind aloft it blows. 

The lad forfook the land, and did 

Unto the Gods complain : 
You rocks, you rugged waters, 

you elements, hail and rain. 
What 'tis to mifs true lovers blifs, 

alas ! you do not know ; 
Make me a wrack as I come back. 

But fpare me as I go. 

Behold on yonder tower, fee where 

my fair beloved lyes ! 
This is th' appointed hour ; hark, how 

£he on Leander cryes ! — - 
The Gods were mute unto his fute, 

the billows anfwered no : 
The furges rife up to the fkyes, 

but he funk down below. 

Sweet Hero, like dame Venus fair, 
all in her turrit flood. 

Hero and Leandcr. 


Expelling of her lover dear, 
who crofling was the flood. 

A feeble light through darkfome night 
fhe fet her love to guide ; 

With wavering arms and loves alarms, 
with a voyce full loud Ihe cry'd : 

You cruel waves, fome pity iliow 

unto my deareft friend, 
And you tempeftuous winds that blow, 

at this time prove more kind. 
O ! waft my love fecure to fhore 

that I his face may fee ; 
With tears your help I do implore, 

your pitty lend to me. 

Let each kind dolphin now befriend, 

and help my love along, 
And bring him to his journeys end 

before his breath is gone. 
Let not a wave become his grave, 

and part us both for ever : 
Pitty my grief, fend him relief, 

and help him now or never ! 

The fierce and cruel tempeft did 

moft violently rage ; 
Not her laments, nor difcontents, 

its fury could alTwage : 


The Tragedy of 

The winds were high, and he muft dye, 

the fates did fo ordain ; 
It was affign'd he ne'r fhould find 

his deareft love again. 

She Ipred her filken vail, for to 

fecure the blazing light. 
To guide her love, leafl on the rocks 

his wearied limbs fliould fmite ; 
But, cruel fate ! it prov'd his date, 

and caufed him to lleep. 
She from above beheld her love 

lye drowned in the deep. 

Her fhowry eyes with tears brought in 

the tide before its time ; 
Her fad lamenting groans likewife 

unto the ikyes did clime. 
O Heavens ! (quoth fhe) againft poor me 

do you your forces bend ? 
Then from the walls in hafte fhe falls, 

to meet her dying friend. 

Her new bedewed arms about 
his fencelefs corps Ihe clipps, 

And many kilTes fpent in vain 
upon his dying lipps : 

Then wav'd her hands unto the lands. 
Singing with dying pride. 

Hero and Leander. 


Go, tell the world in billows ftrong 
I with my love have dy'd. 

Thus did they both their breath refign 

unto the will of fate, 
And in the deep imbrace and twine, 

when Death did end their date. 
Let lovers all example take, 

and evermore prove true, 
For Hero and Leander's fake, 

who bids you all adieu. 

The Royal Recreation of 

jovial Anglers. 

To the Tune of " Amarillis." 

[F. Coles, T. Vere, W. Gilbertfon, and J. Wright, whofe names 
are at the end of this ballad, may have been the original publifhers of 
it, as we doubt if it be much older than the date of the firft impreflion 
of Walton's " Angler," in 1653. The hour of bufmefs on the Royal 
Exchange is ftated in it to be " twixt twelve and one," whereas in the 
latter end of the reign of Elizabeth and in that of James I., it was 
between eleven and twelve. William Haughton's comedy " Englifh- 
men for my Money," (printed in 1616 but written in 1598, as appears 
by Henflowe's Diary p. 119), fhews that merchants then attended 
Change at 1 1 o' clock, and dined at 12 o' clock. There is no other very 
diftinct note of time in the ball^, the full title of which is, " The Royal 
Recreation of jovial Anglers, 

Proving that all men are Intanglers, 
And all Profeffions are turn'd Anglers." 

The tune feems comparatively modern, as we do not find it in any 
early collection.] 

F all the recreations which 
attend on human nature, 
There's nothing fores fo high a pitch, 
or is of fuch a ftature. 
As is a fubtle Anglers life 
in all mens approbation ; 

Recreation of jovial Ancrjcrs, 

For Anelers tricks do daily mix 
with every corporation. 

When Eve and Adam liv'd by love, 

and had no caufe for jangling, 
The Devil did the waters move, 

the ferpent fell to angling : 
He baits his hook with godlike look, 

quoth he, this will intangle her ; 
The woman chops, and down ihe drops : 

the Devil was the hrlt Angler. 

Phylitians, lawyers, and divines 

are moll ingenious janglers. 
And he that trves ihall tind, in fine, 

that all oi them are Anglers : 
Whilll grave divines doe filh for fouls, 

phylitians, like curmudgeons. 
Do bait with health to tilh for wealth. 

And la\\Ters hlh for jrudo-eons. 

A politician, too, is one 

concern'd in pifcatory ; 
He writes and lights, unites and Ihghts, 

to purchafe wealth and glory. 
His plumet founds the kingdom's bounds, 

to make the hdies nibble : 
He draws them with a pack of lyes, 

and blinds them with a quibble. 


H H 


The Royal Recreation 

A fifherman fubdued a place, 

in ipight of locks and ftaples : 

The warlike Maffianello was 
a fifherman of Naples ; 

Commanded forty thoufand men, 
and prov'd a royal wrangler : 

You ne're fhall fee the like again 
of fuch a famous Angler. 

Upon the Exchange, twixt twelve and one, 

meets many a neat intangler ; 
Moft merchant-men, not one in ten, 

but is a cunning Angler ; 
And (like the fifhes in the brooke) 

brother doth fifh for brother. 
A golden bait hangs at the hooke, 

and they fifh for one another. 

A fhopkeeper I next preferr, 

a formal man in black, fir. 
That throws his angle every where, 

and cryes "What is't you lack, fir ? 
Fine filks and fi:uifs, or hoods and muffs ?" 

but if a courtier prove the intangler. 
My citizen muft look too't then, 

or the fifh will catch the Angler. 

A lover is an Angler, too, 

and baits his hooke with kifi^es ; 

of jovial Anglers. 


He playes, and toyes, and fain would do, 

but often times he mifles : 
He gives her rings, and fuch fine things 

as fan, or muff, or night-hood ; 
But if you'l cheat a city peat, 

you muft bait her with a knight-hood. 

There is no Angler like a wench 

jufl rifing in the water ; 
She'l make you leave both trout and tench, 

and throw yourfelf in after. 
Your hook and line Ihe will confine, 

the intangled is the intangler ; 
And this, I fear, hath fpoyl'd the ware 

of many a jovial Angler. 

If you will trowl for a fcriveners foul, 

cafl in a rich young gallant : 
To take a courtier by the powl 

throw out a golden tallent ; 
And yet, I doubt, the draught will not 

compound for half the charge on't ; 
But if you'l catch the Devil at a fnatch, 

go bait him with a fergeant. 

Thus have I made the Anglers trade 

to ftand above defiance. 
For like the mathematick art, 

it runs through every fcience. 

236 Recreation of jovial Anglers. 

If with my angling fong I can 

with mirth and pleafure feaze yee. 
He bait my hook with wit again. 
And angle ftill to pleafe ye. 


Keep a good tongue in 

your head. 

To the Tune of " The Milkmaids, &c." 

[In Walton's " Angler," firft printed in 1653, ^^^ ^'^ earlieft lines of 
this ballad are printed with fome flight variations ; and they are coupled 
with eight other lines from the ballad which follows next in our col- 
leiStion, as if they were one and the fame fong : they are both given to 
Maudlin in Walton's work, and the fa£t we have ftated forms a new 
illuftration of it. Both ballads were written by Martin Parker, a well 
known name in our ephemeral literature in the reign of Charles I, 
and during the ProtecSlorate : his initials are at the end of each, and 
he feldom put his name at full length. He was author of the cele- 
brated " True Tale of Robin Hood," and of the more notorious fong 
of "When the King enjoys his own again." Of the periods of his 
birth or burial we have no knowledge. The broadfide we have ufed 
is entitled, " Keep a good tongue in your head, for 

Here's a very good woman in every refpeft, 
But only her tongue breeds all her defeft." 

It was " Printed at London for Thomas Lambert at the Horfhoo in 
Smithfield" about 1640.] 

MARRY'D a wife of late, 

the more's my unhappy fate ; 
I tooke her for love, 
As fancy did me move, 

and not for her worldly ftate. 
For qualities rare 
Few with her compare ; 


Keep a good tongue 

let me doe her no wrong : 
I muft confefTe, 
Her cheefe amille 
Is onely this. 
As fome wives is, 

fhe cannot rule her tongue. 

She hath as fweet a face 

as any in feaven miles fpace ; 
Her eyes chriftalline 
Like diamonds doe fhine, 

{he looks with a modeft grace : 
Her haire is like flax. 
Her lips are red wax, 

that feal'd the bond fo ftrong 
Twixt her and I, 
That till I die 
He juftifie 
Her conftancy ; 

but fhe cannot rule her tongue. 

Her cheeks are red as the rofe 

which June for her glory fhows : 

Her teeth on a row 

Stand like a wall of fnow 

between her round chin and her nofe. 

Her fhoulders are decent. 

Her armes white and pleafant, 
her lingers are fmall and long : 


in your head. 

No fault I find. 
But, in my minde, 
Moft womenkind 
Muft come behind : 

O, that fhe could rule her tongue ! 

Her breafts like Pyreene hills, 

which nature yearly fils. 
With liquor that by ods 
Doth palTe the drink o' th' gods ; 

all ned:ar it far excels : 
With this fhe doth feed 
The twigs that proceed 

from our affediions ftrong. 
Shee's fruitful as 
The fpringing graffe. 
No time lets pafTe, 
And yet, alas ! 

fhe cannot rule her tongue. 

Her body, which I have oft 

embraced, fo fmooth and foft. 
Is flender and white 
Proportioned aright ; 

tis ftraight as any fhaft. 
Her leg is compleat. 
Her foot's fine and neat, 

tis neither too fhort nor too long : 


Keep a good tongue 

In every part 
Dame Nature's art 
Gives her the ftart : 
With all my heart 

I wi{h fhe could rule her tongue. 

As fhe in feature excels 

wel nye moil women elfe. 
Even fo doth her wit. 
If fhee'l make ufe of it, 

as daily experience tels : 
I cannot deny it. 
If fhe be at quiet 

her fpeeches will do no wrong : 
Shee'l laugh and fmile. 
New termes fhee'l file. 
Yet in a while 
Shee'l change her ftile, 

and cannot rule her tongue. 

With eloquence fhe will difpute ; 

few women can her confute : 
She fings and fhe playes. 
And fhe knowes all her keyes 

on the vial de gambo, or lute. 
Shee'l dance with a grace. 
Her meafures fhee'l trace 
as doth unto art belong : 

in your head. 


She is a girle 

Fit for an Earle, 

Not for a churle : 

She were worth a pearle, 

if file could but rule her tongue. 

Her needle flie can ufe well ; 

in that £he doth mod: excell : 
She can fpin and knit. 
And every thing fit, 

as all her neighbours can tell. 
Her fingers apace. 
At weaving bone-lace, 

She ufeth all day long : 
All arts that be 
To women free. 
Of each degree, 
Performeth fhe. 

O, that fhe could rule her tongue ! 

For hufwifery fhe doth exceed ; 

flie looks to her bufinefi'e with heed 
Shee's early and late 
Emploid, I dare fay't, 

to fee all things well fucceedc. 
She is very wary 
To looke to her dary, 

as doth to her charge belong : 

I I 


Keep a good tongue in your head. 

Her fervants all 

Are at her call. 

But fliee'l fo brawle. 

That ftil I fhall 

wifh that fhe could rule her tongue. 

With all that hath bin faid 

no woman neede be difmaid. 

Sith I have not beene 

Incenfed through fpleene 

in this fpacious river to wade : 

I none doe difparage. 

To hinder their marriage, 

but wifh both old and yong 

Great heed to take. 

When choice they make 

For vertues fake : 

No venemous fnake 

ftings like a womans tongue. 

M. P. 



The Milke-maids Life. 

To a curious new Tune, called " The Milke-maids Dumps." 

[This is the ballad referred to in our introduction to the preceding, 
as having had eight lines quoted from it by Walton in his "Angler," 
(p. 152, edit. 1808). They form the conclufion of our fixth ftanza, 
but Walton either printed from a different copy to that we have ufed, 
or he altered one of the lines. He does not ftate who was the author, 
but the initials at the end of the Roxburghe broadfide fhew that it was 
by Martin Parker. Both this and the laft ballad were written to the fame 
tune, which in one cafe is called " the Milkmaids &:c." and in the other 
" the Milkmaids Dumps :" a " dump" was a fpecies of dance, as well 
as a poem. (Collier's Shakefpeare, vi. 478.) The enfuing, like the 
foregoing, ballad was " Printed at London for T. Lambert;" and to the 
title of ''^ The Milke-Maids Life" is added the following couplet, 

" A pretty new ditty, compofed and pend. 
The praife of the Milking paile to defend." 

The laft ftanza but one proves that the ballad was written before " the 
down fal of May-games" under the puritans.] 

OU rural goddelTes, 

that woods and fields poirefTe, 
AlTifl me with your Ikill, 
That may direct my quill 

more jocundly to expreiTe 
The mirth and delight, 
Both morning and night, 
on mountaine or in dale. 


The Milke-maids Life. 

Of them who chufe 

This trade to ufe, 

And through cold dewes 

Doe never refufe 

to carry the milking payle. 

The braveft laffes gay 

live not fo merry as they : 

In honeft civill fort 

They make each other fport. 

as they trudge on their way. 

Come faire or foul weather. 

They're fearefull of neither ; 

their courages never quaile : 

In wet and dry. 

Though winds be hye. 

And darke's the fky. 

They nere deny 

to carry the milking paile. 

Their hearts are free from care. 

they never will defpaire. 

What ever them befall ; 

They bravely beare out all. 

and fortunes frowns out-dare. 

They pleafantly iing 

To welcome the fpring. 

'gainft heaven they never rayle : 

The Milke-maids Life. 


If grafTe wel grow 
Their thankes they fhow, 
And froft or fnow. 
They merrily goe 

along with the milking paile. 

Bafe idlenell'e they doe fcorne : 

they rife very early i' th' morn. 
And walk into the field. 
Where pretty birds doe yeeld 

brave mufick on every thorn : 
The linet and thrulh 
Doe fing on each bufh ; 

and the dulcid nightingale 
Her note doth ftraine 
In a jocund vaine. 
To entertaine 
That worthy traine, 

which carry the milking paile. 

Their labor doth health preferve ; 

no docftors rules they obferve, 
While others, too nice 
In taking their advice, 

look alwaies as though they wold ftarve. 
Their meat is digefted. 
They ncre are molefted, 

no ficknefle doth them ailaile : 


The Milke-maids Life. 

Their time is fpent 

In merryment; 

While limbs are lent. 

They are content 

to carry the milking paile. 

Thofe lalTes nice and flrange. 

that keep fliops in the Exchange, 

Sit pricking of clouts, 

And giving of flouts ; 

they feldome abroad doe range : 

Then comes the green ficknefle. 

And changeth their likenefl^e. 

all this for want of good fale ; 

But tis not fo, 

As proofe doth fliow. 

By them that goe 

In frofl: and fnow. 

to carry the milking paile. 

If they any fweet-hearts have. 

that do affed:ion crave. 

Their priviledge is this. 

Which many others miffe. 

they can give them welcome brave. 

With them they may walke. 

And pleafantly talke. 

with a bottle of wine or ale : 

The Milke-maids Life. 


The gentle cow 
Doth them allow, ^ 
As they know how. 
God fpeed the plow, 

and blelTe the milking paile ! 

Upon the firft of May, 

with garlands frefh and gay. 
With mirth and mulick fweet. 
For fuch a feafon meet, 

they pafTe their time away : 
They dance away forrow. 
And all the day thorow 

their legs doe never fayle ; 
They nimblely 
Their feet doe ply, 
And bravely try 
The vi6lory, 

in honour o' th' milking paile. 

If any thinke that I 

doe pracflife flattery. 
In feeking thus to raife 
The merry milkmaids praife. 

He to them thus reply. 
It is their defert 
Inviteth my art 

to ftudy this pleafant tale ; 


The Milke-maids Life. 

In their defence 
Whofe innocence. 
And providence, 
Gets honefl: pence 

out of the milking paile. 

M. P. 



The Batchelor's feaft. 

To a pleafant New Tune^ called " With a hie dil do dill." 

[The initials at the end of this fong are thofe of Lawrence Price, 
who not unfrequently put his name at length, and was a highly po- 
pular ballad-writer during the Civil Wars, although no notice has been 
taken of him in modern colle6lions. He was alfo author of feveral 
chap-books, fome of them of a political tendency, fuch as "A new Dis- 
putation betweene the two Lordly Bifhops, Yorke and Canterbury," 
1642. 8vo. &c. The entire title of the following ballad runs thus : — 
" The Batchelor's Feaft, or 

The difference betwixt a fingle life and a double, 

Being the Batchelors pleafure, and the married man's trouble." 

It was " Printed at London for J. W. the younger, dwelling at the 
upper end of the Old Bayly."] 

S I walkt forth of late, 

where gralfe and flowers fpring, 
I heard a Batchelor 

within an harbour iing : 
The tenor of his fong 

contain'd much melodie ; 
It is a gallant thing 
to live at liberty. 
With hie dill do dill, 
hie ho dildtirlie. 

K K 


The Batchelors feaft. 

// is a delighful thing 
to live at liberty. 

Wee Batchelors can flaunt 

in country and in towne. 
And in good company 

may merily fpend a crowne : 
Wee may doe as wee lift, 

our lives from cares are free ; 
O ! 'tis a gallant thing 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

No cradle have wee to rocke, 

nor children that doe cry. 
No land-lords rent to pay, 

no nurfes to fupply ; 
No wife to fcold and brawle, 

we ftill keepe good company 
With them that take delight 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

While married men doe lie 
with worldly cares opprefl. 

Wee Batchelors can fleepe, 
and fweetly take our reft. 

O ! married men mufl feeke 
for goffips and a nurfe. 

The Batchelors feaft, 


Which heavie makes the heart, 
but light it makes the purfe. 
With hie dill &c. 

A man, that doth intend 

to lead a quiet life, 
Muft prad:ife day and night 

to pleafe his longing wife : 
New falhions muft be had 

as oft as fhee them fee. 
O ! tis a pleafant thing 

to live at liberty. 

JVith hie dill ^c. 

The taylor muft be payd 

for making of her gowne ; 
The fhoemakers for fine flioes, 

or elfe thy wife will frowne : 
For bands, fine ruffes and cuffes 

thou muft difpence as free. 
O ! tis a gallant thing 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

A wife muft alfo have 
a beaver of the beft. 

That fhee may flaunt it out, 
and goflip with the reft : 


The Batchelors feaft. 

Wrought quaiffes and cobweb lawne 

her daily weare muft bee. 

O ! tis a Hghtfome thing 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

Yet all this pleafeth not. 

except that thou dofh burfe 

Both gold and filver coyne, 

to carry in her purfe. 

To taverne when flie hies. 

where fliee (hall merry bee. 

O ! tis a gallant thing 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

Some think a fmgle life 

to bee a dayly trouble. 

But many men doe wed 

and make their forrowes double : 

Therefore, I wifli young men 

in time be rul'd by mee. 

And learne to iing this fong. 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

Except a vertuous wife 

a young man chance to find. 

That will induflirious be. 

and beare a modeft mind. 


Hee better were to live 

ftill iingle, as we fee ; 
For 'tis a gallant thing 

to live at liberty. 

With hie dill &c. 

Now, will I heere conclude ; 

I will no one offend, 
Wifliing that every flirew 

her qualities would amend ; 
And that all Batchelors 

may now be rul'd by mee, 
To chufe a loving wife, 

or live at liberty. 

With hie dill ^c. 

L. P. 



Mifer and the Prodigal. 

To the Tune of " To drive the cold winter away." 

[This produdlion, in two parts, has the initials N. P. at the end, 
which may have been an error for M. P. /. e. Martin Parker ; but it 
feems likely that it is older than his time, having been, as we are in- 
formed at the end of the firft part only, " Printed for Henry Goflbn : " 
perhaps his edition was a reprint, and the expreflion, in the fecond 
part, *' Let the welkin roar" carries us back to the times of Ancient 
Piftol and " Henry IV." The title of the firft part is the following 

" Come, worldling, fee what paines I here do take 
To gather gold, while here on earth I rake ; " 

and to this is added, in reference to the fecond part, "What the 
Father gathered by the rake, the Sonne doth fcatter with the forke." 
The fecond part is introduced by thefe two lines : — 

" Come, Prodigals, yourfelves that love to flatter. 
Behold my fall, that with the forke doth fcatter." 

It has no printer's nor publifher's name. — If N. P. were a mifprint for 
N. B., we might attribute thefe two moral and fatirical efFufions to 
Nicholas Breton, who often wrote under his initials, and who flourifhed 
in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. They are not unlike his ftyle, 
but have rather more humour.] 

OME, come, my brave gold. 
Which I love to behold, 
come to me, and He give you reft. 
Where as you may fleepe. 

The Mifer and the Prodieal. 

And I fafely will keepe 

you lockt in my yron bound cheft. 
No thieves you fliall feare. 
You in pieces to teare, 

fuch care of you I will take : 
Come to me, and flye. 
Gold angels ! I cry. 

And He gather you all with my rake. 

Come, filver and all. 
When as I doe call, 

your beauties to me are fo bright ; 
I love you fo deare, 
I pray you come neere, 

and be you not wavering or light : 
Your weight fo you have. 
Come gliftering and brave, 

then, you I will never forfake, 
But heape you together, 
Againft rainy weather. 

And gather you all with my rake. 

Rich jewels and plate 
By no meanes I hate, 

with diamonds, faphirs, or rings ; 
The carbuncle red 
Stands me in like ftead, 

or any other rich things. 


256 The Mifer and the Prodigal. 

The emerald greene. 

Like the fpring that is feene, 

gold chains, or the like, I will take : 
I have a kind heart, 
With my coyne I will part, 

fo I may get all with my rake. 

But yet heare me, friend ; 
No money He lend, 

without a good pawn you do bring, 
But He tell to thee 
How a knave cheated me 

one time with a bafe copper ring : 
With me it bred flrife. 
It neere coil me my life, 

halfe a crowne on the fame he did take 
But He have more care 
Of fuch knaves to beware, 

how fuch copper together I rake. 

On leafes or lands. 
On very good bands, 

good fecurity likewife provide : 
If wee can agree. 
Then my coyne it flyes free, 

if not, your cold fuit is deny'd. 
To foe or to friend 
No money He lend ; 

The Mifer and the Prodioral, 

as they brew, io let them bake : 
This rule I obferve. 
Let them hang or ftarve, 

if I cannot get with my rake. 

And thofe that doe lacke 
To the highth I doe racke, 

I know that they money muft have : 
Some morgage their lands. 
Which fall in my hands, 

to domineere and to goe brave. 
If they faile of their day. 
And have not to pay, 

a feizure on them I doe make. 
Although I goe bare. 
Yet I have a care 

my gold and my lilver to rake. 

Let the poore widdowes cry. 
Let their children dye, 

let their father in prifon goe rot. 
What is that to me ? 
Their wealth is my fee, 

.for I have their livings now got. 
Whole lordihips and lands 
Are falne to my hands, 

and ufe of them all I will make ; 
My bags full of coyne. 


L L 

258 The Mifer and the Prodigal. 

And my purfe I doe lyne 

with that which together I rake. 

Thus rich ufury, 
Ne're thinking to dye, 

nor on his poore foule have a care. 
With one foot in the grave. 
Yet more wealth he doth crave, 

and his backe and his belly doth fpare 
At whofe coft he dine. 
With good cheere and wine, 

he cares not at whofe hands he take ; 
Not a penny hee'l fpend. 
Nor without a pawne lend. 

The Divell and all he will rake. 

But now comes grim Death, 
And ceafeth his breath, 

his tree of life is withered ; 
This wretch fo unkind. 
His wealth leaves behind, 

and is a poore worme being dead. 
But now, pray, give eare 
To that you fhall heare, 

his heire what a courfe he will take. 
That day he did dye 
In his grave he did lye. 

And the fexton the earth on him rake. 


The Mifer and the Prodioral. 



ROOME ! roome for a friend. 
That his money will fpend ; 

old Flatcap is laid in his grave : 
Hee kept me full poore. 
But now I will roare ; 

his lands and his livings I have. 
The tide of gold flowes. 
And wealth on me growes ; 

hee's dead, and for that tis no matter : 
Great ufe he did take. 
And for me did rake, 

which now with the forke I will fcatter. 

I now mufl turn gallant. 
That have fuch a talent ; 

what need I to take any care ? 
I tell thee, good friend, 
'Tis mine owne which I fpend, 

for I was my father's owne heire. 
No blade here fhall lacke : 
Give us claret and facke ! 

hang pinching, it is againft nature. 
Lets have all good cheere, 
Coft it never fo deare, 

for I with my forke will fcatter. 


I'he Mifer and the Prodigal. 

Let me have a lalTe, 

That faire Venus doth paffe ; 

give me all delights that I may : 

He make my gold fly 

Aloft in the fkie ; 

I thinke it will never be day. 

Let the welkin roare ! 

He never give o're : 

Tobacco, and with it flrong water. 

I meane for to drinke 

Untill I doe finke. 

for I with my forke will fcatter. 

And let muflcke play 

To me night and day, 

I fcorne both my lilver and gold. 

Brave gentlemen all. 

He pay what you call ; 

with me, I befeech you, be bold : 

Dice run low or high. 

My gold it fhall fly. 

I mean for to keep a brave quarter ; 

Let the cards goe and come. 

I have a great fum 

That I with my forke will fcatter. 

Let caroufes goe round. 

Till fome fall to the ground. 

The Mifer and the Prodieal. 

and here's to my miftreire her health ; 
Then, let's take no care. 
For no cofl wee'l fpare : 

hang money, I have ftore of wealth. 
My father it got. 
And now, falne to my lot, 

I fcorne it as I doe morter ; 
For coyne was made round 
To fland on no ground. 

And I with my forke will it fcatter. 

My lordfliips to fell 

I thinke would doe well ; 

ill gotten goods never doe thrive : 
Let's fpend while we may. 
Each dog hath his day. 

He want not while I am alive. 
Come, drawers, more facke ! 
And fee what we lacke ; 

for money He fend a porter. 
Brave gallants, ne're feare. 
For wee'l domineere. 

For I with my forke will fcatter. 


Come, drink to my friend. 
And let the health end ; 

my coffers and pockets are empty : 
I now have no more. 

262 The Mifer and the Prodigal. 

That had wont to have ftore ; 

there's fcarcity where there was plenty. 
My friends are all gone. 
And left me alone ; 

I think I muft now drink cold water : 
There's nought but fad woe 
Upon me doth grow, 

Becaufe with my forke I did fcatter. 

Now, this is the flory 
Of prodigal glory, 

who thought that he never fhold lack : 
No drinke, nor no meat. 
Now he hath to eate, 

nor cloathes for to put on his back. 
His friends they forfake him. 
And woe doth o're take him, 

becaufe he was'too free of nature. 
That never did mind 
How Time comes behind, 

who mows, though with fork he did fcatter. 

His leaves they grew greene. 
But they were not feene, 

for autumn them quickly did kill : 
Then, let youth beware. 
And have a great care, 

and truft not too much to their will ; 

The Mifer and the Prodioral. 


Leafl prifon them catch, 
Or a houfe without thatch, 

and glad of brown bread and cold water. 
To God thanks let's give. 
And in a meane live, 

having a care how we doe fcatter. 



Wit's never good till 'tis 


To the Tune of " Bafle's Carreere." 

[This excellent didailic ballad was " Printed at London for Tho- 
mas Lambert," and, like many more, may be pronounced a reprint of 
an older producSlion : how much older muft be matter of fpeculation, 
but no earlier copy is known. On the broadfide, after the burden, 
which is made the title, we are told that it contains 

" Good counfell for improvident men, 
Fit to make ufe of now and then." 

There is an impreflion of it for the fame pubhfher in the Pepyfian 
Library. The tune to which it was fung, " Bafle's Carreere," means 
of courfe the tune mentioned in Walton's Angler " The Hunter in his 
career," compofed, as he flates, by William Bafl^e, who was a writer 
in the early part of the reign of James L] 

NCE muling alone 
upon things many a one. 
Well obferv'd, and knowne by my felfe, 
efpecially how 
that which late did flow, 
I have wafted and now I want pelfe : 
this vexed me fore, 
and made me deplore 
That I had not before of it thought : 
from experience I learn'd. 

Wit's never aood till 'tis bougrht, 

what I lince have difcern'd. 
That true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

Full many a time, 

when I was in my prime. 
My ambition to climbe honors hilt 

did me forward pricke, 

but my jade did fo kicke. 
And dame fortune a trick found to kill 

my hope in the bloome, 

and debafed my plume ; 
I did further prefume than I ought : 

then I wifht I had ftayd 

at my own proper trade ; 
But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 


To fight and to brawle, 

and to quarrell with all. 
And my betters mifcall I have uf'd ; 

but with woe I did find 

all are not of one minde. 
Though I oft in fome kind was excuf'd : 

yet fometimes I got 

a knocke with a pot. 
When to fpeake, and when not, thus I'me taught; 

now, where ever I come. 

He keepe peace in the roome : 
Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

M M 


Wit's never o;ood 

I ufed to roare, 

and to drinke on the fcore. 
And never thought more on the fhot : 

come, Tapfter, faid I, 

one tooth ilill is dry. 
Then fill's. (by and by) tother pot. 

I cal'd ftill apace, 

but within a fhort fpace 
Into a ftrong place I was brought ; 

Then for eight houre's wafte 

foure days I mufi: fail : 
Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

I once had command 

Of houfes and land. 
Thus my cafe well did ftand among men ; 

but moved with pride, 

and contention belide, 
I would wrangle and chide now and then. 

If a horfe I but found 

to leape into my ground. 
Straightway to the pound he was brought : 

now I wifh I had ftill 

kept my neighbours good will. 
But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

This rancor and fpleene 
my ruine hath beene. 

till 'tis bought. 


As may plainly be feene by my ftate ; 

contention in law 

did my purfe empty draw. 
Which I never foreiaw til too late : 

upon every flight thing 

I my acflion would bring. 
But my hands now I wring with the thought 

now I willi I had that 

which hath made others fat ; 
But true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

In company bafe, 

that are voyd of all grace, 
I came often in place, by meere chance ; 

but with being with them, 

whom alone Tde condemne, 
I'de in prefence efteeme and advance ; 

but being apart, 

catechiling my heart, 
It much forrow and fmart hath me brought : 

then, with fad melancholly 

I weepe for my folly. 
Thus wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

Befides, now and then, 
I have hapned with men 
That too cunning have been at the catch, 
and then, in my drinke. 


Wit's never good 

I with paper and inke 

Have made, I did thinke, a good match ; 

but after, when I 

more dehberately 

The bufinelTe to try-all had brought. 

I have found my felfe cheated. 

And bafely defeated : 

Thus wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

Moreover, I have 

told my mind to a knave. 


Thinking him truly grave, truly juft ; 

I my heart have expos'd. 

And my fecrets difclos'd, 

As a friend I repos'd on his truft : 

but the rafcall ignoble. 

his heart being double. 

Me much woe and trouble hath wrought ; 

But I've learnd, ere lince that. 

to take heed of my chat. 

Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

When I was a lad 

a good fervice I had. 

Then my minde was to gad-ding full bent ; 

though I nothing did lacke. 

nor for belly nor backe. 

Yet I was not with that well content : 

till 'tis bouo-ht. 


but upon linall diftafte 

my felf I difplaft. 
Thus my downfall in hafte then I fought ; 

Since I wilht to obtaine 

what I oft did difdaine : 
Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

Too willing I was 

my owne credite to palTe, 
Now I find it, alas ! to my paine, 

that with fetting my hand 

To another man's band. 
For to fell houfe and land I was faine. 

I have palfed my word 

for what others have fcor'd. 
And I oft, like a bird, have bin caught, 

in the prifon to flay 

where I fung Lachrima : 
Thus true wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

If any of thofe 

that are (caufelelTe) my foes 
Should fo raflily fuppofe in their hearts, 

that all in this fong 

to my felfe doth belong, 
Their conjecture is wrong for their part, 

whoever they be, 

where they fome thing may fee 


Wit's never good till 'tis bought. 

By which every degree may be taught : 
what ere's thy profeffion, 
thou maift learne this lelTon, 

That wit's never good till 'tis bought. 



IjA / m. 



^^^^&X /ul 11 

L_ — 1 


A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 

To the Tune of " Packingtons Pound." 

[This fingular ballad preceded the Reftoration, and indeed the Civil 
Wars, and the mention in it of Dun, the public hangman, is one proof 
of its date. A perfon of the name of Derrick filled that office towards 
the clofe of the reign of Elizabeth (Malone's Suppl. 2. 602) and until 
1616 : Dun feems to have fucceeded him, and he continued to difcharge 
the duties for thirty or forty years, until the appointment of " Mr. John 
Ketch," whofe name (which gave an appellation to all his fucceflbrs) 
firft occurs in the epilogue to Dr)'den's " Duke of Guife." The notice 
in what follows of the performances of players at Bartholomew Fair 
fhews how early theatres were creeled there; and the other local and 
temporary allufions are extremely curious. It is to be obferved that the 
Ballad-finger fpeaks in his own perfon ; and, were it not for the conclu- 
fion, we might fuppofe that the production was a "jig," which had 
been performed by a comic a6lor at the Curtain, the Red Bull or fome 
other popular place of amufement : as early as 1592 cut-purfes com- 
plained that they had been expofed, and " their trade fpoiled " by " fing- 
ing jigs" at theatres. (Hift. Engl. Dram. Poetry and the Stage, III. 
380.) Swift mentions "the tune of the Cut-purfe," which may have 
been derived from this ballad, and another name for " Packington's 
Pound," fo long popular. The full title of our ballad (which was 
" Printed for W, Gilbertfon ") is " A Caveat for Cutpurfes. With 
a warning to all purfe-carriers, {hewing the confidence of the firft, and 
the carelefnefTe of the laft, with neceflar)'- admonitions for them both, 
left the Hangman get the one, and the Begger the other."] 

>Y mailers, and friends, and good people draw 
And look to your purfes for that I do fay ; 
And though little money in them you do bear. 

272 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 

It coft you more to get, then to lofe in a day. 
You oft have been told. 
Both the young and the old. 
And bidden beware of the Cut-purfe fo bold : 
Then, if you take heed not, free me from the curfe. 
Who both give you warning for, and the Cut-purfe. 
Youth, youth, thouhadft better been ftarv'd by thy nurfe. 
Then live to be hanged for cutting a purfe. 

It hath been upbraided to men of my trade. 

That oftentimes we are the caufe of this crime : 
Alack, and for pity ! why fhould it be faid. 
As if they regarded or places or time ? 
Examples have been 
Of fome that were feen 
In Weftminfter-hall, yea, the pleaders between : 
Then, why fhould the Judges be free from this curfe. 
More then my poor felf is for cutting the purfe ? 

Youth, youth &c. 

At Worfter, tis known well, and even in the jaile, 

A knight of good worfhip did there fhew his face 
Againft the foul linners in zeale for to raile. 
And fo loft, ipfofaSlo, his purfe in the place. 
Nay, once from his feat 
Of judgement fo great, 
A Judge there did lofe a fair purfe of velvete. 
Oh, Lord ! for thy mercy, how wicked, or worfe. 

A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 

Are thofe that fo venture their necks for a purfe ! 

Youth, youth &c. 

At playes, and at fermons, and at the SefTions 

^Tis daily their pra(5life fuch booty to make ; 
Yea, under the gallows, at executions, 

they flick not the ftare-abouts purfes to take : 
Nay, one without grace, 
At a better place. 
At Court and in Chriftmas, before the King's face; 
Alack then for pitty ! muft I bear the curfe 
That only belongs to the cunning Cut-purfe ? 

Youth, youth &c. 

But oh ! you vile nation of Cutpurfes all 

Relent and repent, and amend and be found. 
And know that you ought not by honefl mens fall 
Advance your own fortunes to dye above ground ; 
And though you go gay 
In filks, as you may. 
It is not the highway to Heaven, as they fay. 
Repent then, repent you, for better for worfe. 
And kifs not the gallows for cutting a purfe. 

Youth, youth &c. 

The Players do tell you, in Bartholmew Faire, 

What fecret confumptions and rafcals you are ; 
For one of their Adors, it feems, had the fate 


N N 

2 74 A Caveat for Cut-purfes. 

By fome of your trade to be fleeced of late : 
Then, fall to your prayers. 
You that are way-layers. 
They're fit to choufe all the world, that can cheat 
Players ; 
For he hath the art, and no man the worfe, 
Whofe cunning can pilfer the pilferer's purfe. 

Youth, youth &c. 

The plain Country man, that comes flaring to London, 

If once you come near him he quickly is undone. 
For when he amazedly gazeth about. 

One treads on his toes, and the other puls't out : 
Then, in a ftrange place. 
Where he knows no face. 
His mony is gone, tis a pittifull cafe. 
The Divel of hell in his trade is not worfe. 
Then Gilter and Diver, and Cutter of purfe. 

Youth, youth &c. 

The poor fervant maid wears her purfe in her placket, 

A place of quick feeling, and yet you can take it ; 
Nor is {he aware that you have done the feat, 
Untill £lie is going to pay for her meat : 
Then fhe cryes and rages 
Amongft the baggages, 
And fwears at one thruft fhe hath loft all her wages; 
For fhe is ingaged her own to difburfe. 

A Caveat tor Cut-purfes. 

To make good the breach of the cruel Cut-purfe. 

Youth, youth &c. 

Your eyes and your lingers are nimble of growth. 

But Dun many times hath been nimbler then both ; 
Yet you are deceived by many a Hut, 

But the Hangman is only the Cut-purfes cut. 
It makes you to vex 
When he bridles your necks. 
And then, at the laft, what becomes of your tricks? 
But when you fhould pray, you begin for to curfe 
The hand that firft fhew'd you to flafh at a purfe. 

Youth, youth 6cc. 

But now to my hearers this counfel I give. 

And pray, friends, remember it as long as you live; 
Bring out no more caili in purfe, pocket or wallet. 
Then one fingle penny to pay for this ballet ; 
For Cut-purfe doth fhrowd 
Himfelf in a cloud. 
There's many a purfe hath been loft in a crowd ; 
For he's the moft rogue that doth crowd up, and curfes, 
Who firil: cryes, ** my Mafters, beware of your purfes." 
Oh youth ! thou hadft better been ftarv'd by thy nurfe. 
Then live to be hanged for cutting a purfe. 




The Houfeholders New- 
year's Gift. 

To the Tune of " Where is my true love." 

[This excellent mufical dialogue between a Hufband and a Wife, 
the firft complaining of poverty, and the laft cheering him in his mif- 
fortunes, was unqueftionably written in a dear year, fuch as Stow des- 
cribes 1596, when wheat was fold as high as fix, feven and eight fhillings 
a bufhel, or 1597 when the price rofe to thirteen fhillings (Annals 1615 
p. 1279). Although the only known edition of what follows was 
" Printed for F. Coules dwelling in the Old Bayly," we may feel aflured 
that it originally came out nearly half a century earlier. The title at 
length is in thefe terms : — " The Houfholders New-yeeres Gift, Con- 
taining a pleafant Dialogue between the Hufband and his Wife, pleafant 
to be regarded." Whenever it was firfl printed, it was obvioufly at the 
commencement of a new year.] 

RIEVE no more, fweet hulband, 
to grieve it is in vaine ; 
Little it availeth 
to grieve, or elfe complaine : 
Then, fhew thy need to no man, 

for it doth breed difdaine. 
Now comes a good new yeare. 

H. Alacke, and alas for woe ! 
how can I chufe } 

Houfeholders New-year's Gift. 

The world is grown fo cruell, 
that friendfhip few doe ufe : 

Flattery gets credit, 

plaine troth it overthrowes. 

O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 

W, The world is deceitfull, 

then truft it not, my deare ; 

But take this comfort to thee, 

thy faddeft thoughts to cheere : 

The Lord will never leave them, 
where true love doth appeare ; 

And God fend a merry new yeare ! 

H. What comfort can I take, wife, 

when forrow is fo great ? 
Mifery on all fides 

doth us alwayes threat ; 
When labour is too little 

to finde us bread and meat. 
O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 

Scarcitie is planted 

in village and in towne : 
We fee our neighbours children 

goe begging up and downe ; 
Few perfons do relieve them, 

but all at them doe frowne. 
O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 



The Houfeholders 

W. GreedinefTe is caufer, 

good hulband, of this ill : 

Pride, that madding monfter, 
kind charitie doth kill. 

Lord Jefus ! foon amend it 
according to thy will ; 

And fend us a merry new yeare. 

H. Corne in every market 

fo deare we dayly fee. 
We pay more for a bufliell, 

then wee were wont for three : 
This cuts the hearts of poore men, 

and this undoeth me. 
O Lord ! fend a good new yeare. 

W. Why hufband, this hath caufed 

fo many at this day 
To pinch their pretty bellies 

within their garments gay ; 
And all they thinke too little 

upon themfelves to lay. 
Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 

m. Sweet wife, a thoufand forrowes 
doe yet torment my minde. 

To thinke for all my labour 
how I am ftill behinde ; 

And for the fame no remedy. 

New-year's Gift. 

alackc ! that I can lindc. 
Good Lord ! lend a merry new yeerc. 

W. Take courage, gentle hufband, 
and hearken what I fay : 

After freezing January 

commetli plealant May ; 

There is no ftorme fo cruell, 
but comes as faire a day. 

Good Lord! fend a merry new yeere. 

H. Gentle wife, I tell thee, 

my very heart is done ; 
The world's great calamitie 

no way can I fhunne, 
For ftill in debt and danger 

more and more I runne. 
Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 

W. Be content, fweet hufband, 

and hearken unto me : 
The Lord is ftill as mercifuU 

as he was wont to bee. 
Goe thou, and ply thy labour, 

and I Vv'ill worke with thee. 
Good Lord ! fend a merry new yeere. 

I will not be idle, 

but I will card and fpin ; 



Houfeholders New-year's Gift. 

I will fave together 

that thou bringefl: in : 

No man for a debt is hanged ; 

then, palTe thou not a pin. 

And God fend a merry new yeere ! 

H. Deare wife, thy gentle fpeeches 

revive me at the heart. 

To fee thee take my poverty 

in fuch a gentle part : 

If God doe ever raife me. 

thou {halt have thy defert ; 

And God fend a merry new yeere ! 

W. Poverty, fweet hulband. 

oft time hath been blamed. 

But poverty with honefty 

never yet was fliamed. 

The rich man difcontented 

may be a poor man named ; 

But God fend a merry new yeere ! 

What thou want'ft in riches 

I will fupply in love ; 

Thou fhalt be my honey. 

and I thy turtle dove : 

Thou art my beloved. 

no forrow fhall remove ; 

And God fend a merry new yeere ! 

The Times Abufes. 

To the Tune of " Over and under." 

[A remarkable perfonal ballad relating to a well known character 
of the reigns of James I. and Charles I, who went about the ftreets in 
rags and was univerfally called by the name of Mull'd-fack, in refer- 
ence, doubtlefs, to his once favourite beverage. It was " Printed for 
J. Wright, dwelling in Gilt-fpur-ftreet," and no other copy but that we 
have ufed is known to exift. After the title, "The Times Abufes," 
come the following explanatory but not very grammatical lines : 

" Muld-Sacke his grievances briefly expreft, 
Shewing the caufes doth his mind moleft ; 
But yet he merry makes, and dedicates 
This fong in love to all which bafcnefle hates." 

The allufions to, and defcriptions of the various occupations in London 
are amufmg and curious.] 

TTEND, my mailers, and give eare, 
whilfl here I doe relate 
The bafe injurious flanders 

are throwne on me in hate : 
My wrongs and great abufes 
fo commonly are knowne, 
As in a fong, to right my wrong, 

{hall inftantly be fhowne. 
They call me fudling Muld-facke, 

when drinke I have got none : 
Cannot they looke to their bufmelTe, . 
and let Muld-Sack alone ? 

o o 


The Times Abufes. 

If I fometimes a pot or fo 

doe drinke for recreation. 
My reckning paid, away I goe, 

and follow my vocation ; 
Not any good man grieving, 

offenlive for to be. 
By rooking or deceiving; 

from that my thoughts are free. 
They call me fudling Muld-Sacke, 

when drinke I have got none : 
Cannot they thinke on the blacke jacke, 

and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

As I along the ftreets doe ling 

the people flocke about me. 
No harme to any one I meane, 

yet jeeringly they flout me : 
The bar-boyes and the tapfters 

leave drawing of their beere. 
And running forth in hafte they cry, 

" See, where Muld-Sacke comes here !" 
Thus am I jeered by them, 

though harme I doe them none : 
Cannot they looke to their fmall cans, 

and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

The jeering cunning curtezan, 
and rooking roaring boy. 

The Times Abufes. 


Which day and night doe take dehght 

in drunkennelTe to joy, 
They with their pimps and panders, 

Decoyes, and cheating knaves. 
Which run to wenches, drinks and roars, 

and limple men deceives. 
They have no grace to guide well, 

and confcience they have none ; 
Cannot they take heed of Bridewell, ■ 

and let Muld-facke alone ? 

The glutton rich that feedeth 

of beefe and mutton ftore, 
And hates the poore that needeth, 

which goes from doore to doore. 
And will not fpend his money 

but for the love of drinke. 
And grieves to give a penny, 

fo well he loves his chinke. 
Too many fuch alive is, 

of whom I am fure he's one : 
Cannot he remember Dives, 

and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

Tearme-trotting petty-foggers, 
which are fo fine and nice. 

Will drinke, if they meet rightly, 
a cup of ale and fpice ; 


The Times Abufes. 

Yet mufl they take their chamber 

before they doe begin. 

And if they can but hide it. 

they thinke it is no iinne ; 

When I in the ftreets walke open 

to the view of every one. 

Cannot they looke to their clyents. 

and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

The jeering fleering coxcombe. 


with hands behind his backe. 

All day, which flands from morn til night. 

to cry " what doe you lacke ?'* 

With fcoffing, and with taunting, 

will by the fleeve me pull. 

" What is't you'l buy ?" he'l to me cry. 

yet, like a brainlefle gull. 

He'l caft on me a fcornfull looke. 

though harme I doe him none : 

Cannot he looke to his iliop-booke. 

and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

The taylors fawcie prentices. 

as I do paiTe along. 

They at my head will caft their fhreds. 

though I doe them no wrong. 

The faying old hath oft been told. 

it plaine doth verifie. 

The Times Abufes. 


" Poore and proud, ftill taylor like ;" 

for they moft jeeringly 
Doe call me fudlinir Muld-Sacke, 


though drinke I have got none : 
Cannot they keepe their fingers true, 
and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

Alfo the jeering tripe-wives, 

which puddings fell and fowce, 
Crye, ** There goes fudling Muld-Sacke, 

doth wine and beere carowfe ;" 
And with difdainfull fpeeches, 

having no caufe at all, 
Will taunt and feoff, and jeer and laugh, 

and bafely me mifcall. 
And call me fudling Muld-Sacke, 

thouo-h I am no fuch one : 


Cannot fhe fcrape her greafie tripes, 
and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

The clownilli country carter 

will likewife, with a jeere. 
Point at me as I goe along, 

his head being fill'd with beere ; 
Yet for his jeeres I care not, 

but laughing let him paffe. 
To follow his cart with " gee, gee ho," 

moft like a witleffe affe : 


The Times Abufes. 

For like a home-bred Clownico, 
good manners he knowes none : 

Cannot he looke to his waggon, 
and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 

The bakers in the fuburbs, 

with hearts devoid of pitty. 
Bread light and fmall they make for all, 

both country and the city. 
And fometimes their two penny loafe, 

of weight wants ounces three. 
As merrily I paiTe them by, 

thev cannot let me be. 
They call me fudling Muld-Sacke 

when drinke I haue got none ; 
Cannot they looke to their confcience, 
and let Muld-Sacke alone ? 


The Lover's Complaint. 

To a plea f ant New Tune. 

[This ballad was " Printed by the Affigncs of Thomas Symcocke" 
in the reign of James I : there is fome reafon to believe that the old 
tunes, fo well known by the names of " I wail in woe" and " Light o' 
love," (mentioned in 1578 in "The Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant In- 
ventions" and in 1584 in " The HandfuU of pleafant Delights") might 
be named from it. " Light o' love" is employed as an extremely po- 
pular air in two of Shakefpeare's plays, " The Two Gentlemen of 
Verona" and " Much ado about Nothing." Compare alfo Sonnet XL 
of " The Paflionate Pilgrim," with the later ftanzas of the ballad. The 
full title is only this, " The Lovers Complaint for the lofTe of his 

WANDER up and downe 

and no body cares for me : 
Though I am but poore and browne, 
yet coniliant will I be. 
My deareft love, farewell, 
a thoufand times adew. 
Seeing thou haft forfaken me, 
and changed for a new. 

I never gave thee caufe 

why thou fliouldft me forfake, 
Nor never brake the faithfuU vow 

that you and I did make : 

2 88 The Lover's Complaint. 

Farewell, my deareft love ; 

I tooke thee at thy word. 
Hard hap had I to beat the bufh, 

and another catch the bird. 

I will goe range abroad. 

He find fome other thing : 
If I had knowne you would have flowne, 

I would have dipt your wing. — 
Would you have dipt my wing ? 

fhe anfwered me againe : 
You might have done it in the wood ; 

you know the time and when. 

Farewell, my deareft love, 

to thee I made my fute ; 
Hard hap had I to graft the tree, 

another reape the fruite. 
I alwaies waile in woe, 

I travaile ftill in paine : 
I fee my true love where fhe goes ; 

I hope {hee'l come againe. 

I heard a pretty tune 

concerning to a fong, 
A lover mourning for his love, 

and faid flie did him wrong : 
He had her in the wood, 

he might have wrought his will ; 

The Lover's Complaint. 

Pittie it was to doc him good 
that he had no better Ikill. 

In woods, or defert place, 

had I ere my love fo, 
I thinke I would have plaid with her, 

before I had let her goe : 
Had file been light of love, 

I fliould have ibone efpied ; 
I trow I would a dipt her wing, 

and caus'd her to abide. 

Should I let fcape the bird 

that I had fail on fift ? 
Then, let her laugh and fcoffe at me, 

and ufe me as flie lift. 
He ftill doth beate the bulh, * 

although the bird be loft. 
And being flothfull in his fuit, 

thus fortune hath him coft. 

If with my love in woods 

fo happy were I fped, 
I fhould fuppofe my hap were hard, 

to miife her maiden head. 
Good friend, be rul'd by me 

that made this morall fong ; 
If thou wander up and downe, 

thy felfe hath done thee wrong. 

p p 


290 The Lover's Complaint. 

Thou alwaies wailfl in woe, 

thou travailefl ftill in paine : 
Looke, yonder, where my true love goes, 

fhe will never come againe ! 
Therefore be rulde by me, 

and let thy lover paiTe : 
If thou looke well, thy chance may be 

to find another lafie. 



The Coach's Overthrow. 

To the Tune of " Old King Harry." 

[As early as 1601 Coaches in London had become fuch a nuifance 
that the legiflature found it neceffary to interpofe " to reftrain the ex- 
ceflive ufe" of them : not long afterwards, we are told that, not fewer 
than 6000 were conftantly crowding the narrow ftreets. About 1630 
Sedans alfo came into general requeft, and they are alluded to by R. 
Brome and other dramatifts of the time. In 1631 the inhabitants of 
Blackfriars petitioned the Privy Council againft the number of coaches 
bringing auditors to the theatre there— (H ill:. Engl. Dram. Poetry and 
the Stage II. 31., III. 408); and John Taylor's " World runs on 
Wheels," was written to ridicule the increafmg fafhion. In 1636 was 
printed a ludicrous difcuflion between a Coach and a Sedan ; and to 
about this period the following fong, which contemplates the fuppref- 
fionof hacicney coaches, feems to belong. It is called, in the undated 
broadfide, " The Coaches Overthrow, or a joviall Exaltation of divers 
Tradefmen and others for the fuppreflion of troublefome Hackney 
Coaches:" for "exaltation" we ought doubtlefs to read exultation^ 
but we have never met with more than one copy, which was " Printed 
for Francis Grove." Other obvious mifprints occur, which it is not 
worth while to point out, and in one place a line has been nearly cut 
off: we have fupplied the deficiency by conjecture.] 

S I pafs'd by the other day, 

where facke and claret fpring, 
I heard a mad crew by the way, 
that lowd did laugh and fing 
High downe, dery, dery downe, 

with the hackney coaches downe ! 


The Coach's Overthrow. 

Tis cry'd aloud. 

They make fuch a crowd. 

Men cannot paiTe the towne. 

The boyes that brew ftrong ale, and care 

not how the world doth fwing. 

So bonny, blith, and joviall are. 

their lives are drinke and fing ; 

Hey downe, dery, dery downe. 

with the hackney coaches downe ! 


To make them roome 

They may freely come. 

And liquor the thirfty towne. 

The Collier he's a fack of mirth. 

and though as black as foote. 

Yet iliill he tunes and whiftles forth. 

and this is all the note : 

Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

with the hackney coaches downe ! 

They long made fooles 

Of poore Carry-coales, 

But now muft leave the towne. 

The Carriers of every iliire 

are, as from cares immune. 

So joviall in this packe horfe quire. 

and this is all their tune. 

Hey downe, dery, dery downe. 

The Coach's Overthrow. 

with the hackney coaches downe ! 
Farewell, adew 
To the jumping crew. 
For they muft leave the towne. 

Although a Carman had a cold, 

he ftraind his March-bird voice. 
And with the beft a part did hold, 

to fing and to rejoyce. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
with the hackney coaches downe ! 
The Carmen's cars. 
And the merchants wares. 
May palTe along the towne. 

The very (lugs did pipe for joy 

that coachmen hence fliould hye. 
And that the coaches muft away, 

a mellowing up to lye. 
Hey downe, dery, dery downe, 

with the hackney coachmen downe ! 
Pafte they their fcope. 
As round as a rope, 
Wee'ljogge them forth of the towne. 

Promoters and the informers, 

that oft offences hatch. 
In all our times the money-wormes, 

and they are for to catch. 



The Coach's Overthrow. 

Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
with the hackney coaches downe ! 

For thefe reftraints 

Will with complaints 
Fill all [the noify towne]. 

The world no more fhall run on wheels 

with coach-men, as't has done. 
But they mufl take them to their heeles, 

and try how they can run. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

With the hackney coaches downe ! 
Wee thought they'd burft 
Their pride, fince iirft 
Swell'd fo within the towne. 

The Sedan does (like Atlas) hope 

to carry heaven pick-pack. 
And likewife, lince he has fuch fcope, 

to beare the towne at's back. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

With the hackney coachmen downe ! 
Arife, Sedan, 
Thou fhalt be the man 
To beare us about the towne. 

I love Sedans, caufe they doe plod 
and amble every where. 

The Coach's Overthrow. 


Which prancers are with leather fliod, 

and neere difturbe the eare. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

With the hackney coaches downe ! 
Their jumpings make 
The pavement fhake. 
Their noyfe doth mad the towne. 

The elder brother {hall take place, 

the youngeft brother rife ; 
The middle brother's out of grace, 

and every tradefman cryes. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 
with the hackney coaches downe ! 
Twould fave much hurt, 
Spare duft and durt. 
Were they cleane out of towne. 

The fick, the weake, the lame alfo, 

a coach for eafe might beg. 
When they on foot might lightly goe, 

that are as right's leg. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

With the hackney coaches downe ! 
Lets foot it out. 
Ere the yeare comes about. 
Twill fave us manv a crowne. 


'The Coach's Overthrow. 

What though we trip ore boots and ihoes. 

twill eafe the price of leather : 

We fhall get twice what once we loofe. 

when they doe fall together. 

Heigh downe, dery, dery downe, 

with the hackney coaches downe ! 

Though one trade fall. 

Yet in generall 

Tis a good to all the towne. 

Tis an undoing unto none 

that a profeffion ufe : 

Tis good for all, not hurt to one. 

conlidering the abufe. 

Then heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

with the hackney coaches downe ! 

Tis fo decreed 

By a royall deed. 

To make it a happy towne. 

Coach-makers may ufe many trades 

and get enough of meanes ; 

And coach-men may turne off their jades. 

and helpe to draine the fens. 

Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

With the hackney coaches downe ! 

The fythe and flayle. 

Cart and plow-tayle. 

Doe want them out of towne. 

The Coach's Overthrow. 

But to conclude, tis true, I heare, 
they'l foone be out of fafliion ; 
Tis thought they very Hkely are 

to have a long vacation. 
Heigh downe, dery, dery downe. 

With the hackney coaches downe ! 
Their terme's neere done, 
And fhall be begun 
No more in London towne. 



The Bad Hufband turn'd 


To the Tune of^ Hey ho my Honey. 

[The name at the end of the enfuing ballad has not occurred before, 
and we can give no account of John Wade, or of his other productions : 
this may have been printed for the firft time " for W. Thackeray, T. 
Paflinger and W. Whitwood," tow^ards the middle of the feventeenth 
century, but it may alfo have appeared confiderably earlier, and it con- 
tains no peculiar note of time. The title of the broadfide is, " A Ca- 
veat for Young Men, or the bad Hufband turn'd Thrifty," foUovi^ed 
by eight lines enforcing the moral of the performance. We have in- 
ferted no other ballad to the fame tune.] 

LL you young ranting blades 
that fpend your time in vain. 
Remember that old age 
you cannot it refrain ; 
And whiifl that you are young 

this Caveat take of me : 
Be ruled by no tempting tongue 

to bring you to poverty. 
/ have been a bad hujband long, 

and have /pent Jiore offilver and gold ; 
Yet now lie fave Jomething whilji I am young 
to keep me whe?i I am old. 

The Bad Huitand turn'd Thrifty. 


I had good ftore of means, 

and liv'd moil gallantly ; 
But yet upon wenches, and on queans 

I fpent it by and by. 
My hoaftis (he was full of laughter 

fo long as I had money good ftore ; 
And my children muft drink fair water, 

whilll: I in the ale-houfe did roar. 
/ have been &c. 

My wife would me intreat 

the ale-houfe to refrain ; 
Then I with anger great 

made anfwear ftraio:ht ao:ain : — 
If you begin to fcold 

then I will bang thy coat. — 
What woman her tongue can hold, 

when a man fwallows all down his throat ? 
/ have beefi ^c. 

My children and I muft fit 

until we ftarve and pine, 
Whilft you your guts full get 

of tobacco, beer and wine. 
Half that you fpend in vain, 

and meerly throw away. 
Our family would maintain, 

and our houfe-rent it would pay. 
/ have been <o?r. 


The Bad Hufband 

But yet Ide not be rul'd 

by thefe words fhe did fay : 

My felf I often fool'd, 

which brought me to decay. 

I no fooner had fold a cow 

but ftrait to the ale-houfe I ran ; 

My hoaftis unto me would bow. 

until all my money was gone. 

/ have been &c. 

She'd chuck me under the chin, 

and perhaps would give me a kifs ; 

As Venus drew Adonis in. 

my hoaftis would never mifs : 

She'd tell me it was too early. 

or elfe it was too late. 

Until by the oyl of barley 

they had gotten my whole eftate. 

/ have been &c. 

Thus day and night I ranted. 


and no company did refufe ; 

V/hilft my wife and children wanted. 

I did my felf abufe. 

I could not fcarce afford 

my children clothes to wear. 

Nor my wife one good word. 

turn'd Thrifty. 


fuch was her grievous care. 
/ have been &c. 

The more my wife did fpeak, 

the worfer I would be ; 
I'de drinke till my brains did ake, 

onely to anger flie : 
So long as I had a penny 

I'de never give out for game ; 
But fince I have found by many, 

a good fellows a coftly name. 
/ have bee?! &c. 

At laft I did perceive 

my eflate was almoft gone ; 
Then it was time to leave, 

and fome words I thought upon. 
I went into an ale-houfe, 

where all my coyn I had drown'd 
In company with good fellows 

I had fpent an hundred pound. 
/ /lave been ^c. 

I then thefe words replied : — 
Hoaftis, money I have none. 

A flagon file me denied, 

and bid me ftraight be gone. 


The Bad Hufband 

What, will you not trufi: me a flagon ? 

thofe words replied I : 

No, quoth fhe, not a nogging. 

if you fhould ilarve and dye. 

/ have been &c. 

I then went lighing home. 

and a vow ftraightway did make. 

They fhould fit whilft day of doom 

before one penny of me fhould take. 

A new life I will now begin ; 

the ale-wives fhall fit like elves. 

They fhall both card and fpin. 

or elfe go hang themfelves. 

/ have been &c. 

Now, I all men advife 

this Caveat think upon ; 

Be ruled by your wives. 

for old age it will come. 

If they know you have money. 

the ale-wives with you will crack ; 

They'l fuck you, as bees fuck honey. 

then hang you behind your back. 

/ have been &c. 

Therefore in time be ruled 

fave fomething while you have it ; 

turn'd Thrifty. 


By no ale-wives be you fooled, 

and then repent too late : 
For when that all is gone, 

and you have but little ftock. 
If to the ale-wives you make moan, 

they will you but jear and mock. 
/ /lave been a bad hiijband long, 

and haije /pent fiore ofjiher and gold, 
Tet now Ik fave fomething njohiljl I am young 

to keep me when I am old. 

John Wade. 


The Pedlar's Lamentation. 

To the Tune of " My life and my death." 

[An excellent ballad for Autolycus, though, from various allufions 
in it, of too modern a date. The contents of a Pedlar's pack, foon after 
a licenfe became neceflary, are very minutely ftated, and, even to the 
" choice fongs and merry books," accord well with the articles in which 
" the rogue " of " The Winter's Tale " dealt. The ballad was " Printed 
for J. Back, at the Black-boy on London-bridge," under the following 
title : — " The forrowful Lamentation of the Pedlars and Petty Chap- 
men, for the hardnefs of the times, and the decay of trade."] 

HE times are grown hard, more harder then 
^^ ftone, 

And therefore the Pedlars may well make 
their moan. 
Lament and complain that trading is dead. 
That all the fweet golden fair days now are fled. 
Then, maidens and men, come fee what you lack. 
And buy the fine toys that I have in my pack I 

Come hither and view, here's choice and here's flore. 
Here's all things to pleafe ye, what would you have 

more ? 
Here's points for the men, and pins for the maid. 

The Pedlar's Lamentation. 


Then open your purfes and be not afraid. 

Cofne, maidens &c. 

Let none at a teller repent or repine : 

Come bring me your money, and Tie make you fine ; 

Young Billy iliall look as fpruce as the day, 

And pretty fweet Betty more finer then May. 

Then, maidens &c. 

To buy a new licenfe your money I crave ; 
'Tis that which I want, and 'tis that which you have : 
Exchange then a groat for fome pretty toy, 
Come, buy this fine whiftle for your little boy. 

Come, maidens &c. 

Here's garters for hofe, and cotten for fhooes. 
And there's a guilt bodkin, which none would refule : 
This bodkin let John give to fweet Milbifs Jane, 
And then of unkindnefs he fliall not complain. 

Come, maidens &c. 

Come buy this fine coife, this drefiing, or hood. 
And let not your money come like drops of blood : 
The Pedlar may well of his fortune complain. 
If he brings all his ware to the market in vaine. 

Then, jnaidens ^c. 

Here's band firings for men, and there you have lace. 
Bone-lace to adorne the fair virgins fweet face : 

1; \K. 

3o6 The Pedlar's Lamentation. 

What ever you like, if you will but pay. 
As foon as you pleafe you may take it away. 

Then, maidens &c. 

The world is fo hard that we find little trade. 
Although we have all things to pleafe every maid : 
Come, pretty fair maids, then make no delay. 
But give me your hanfel, and p^ck me away. 

Come, maidens &c. 

Here's all things that's fine, and all things that's rare. 
All modifh and neat, and all new London ware : 
Variety here you plainly may fee. 
Then, give me your money, and we will agree. 

Come, maidens &c. 

We travail all day through dirt and through mire. 
To fetch you fine laces and what you defire ; 
No pains do we fpare to bring you choice ware. 
As gloves and perfumes, and fweet powder for hair. 

Then, maidens &c. 

We have choice of fongs, and merry books too. 
All pleafant and witty, delightful and new. 
Which every young fwain may whiftle at plough. 
And every fair milk-maid may fing at her cow. 

Then, maidens &c. 

Since trading's fo dead we mufl needs complain. 
And, therefore, pray let us have fome little gain : 

The Pedlar's Lamentation. 


If you will be free, we will you fupply 
With what you do want ; therefore, pray come and buy. 
The world is Jo hardy that although we take pains y 
When we look in our purjes we find little gains. 



Poor Robin's Dream, commonly 
called Poor Charity. 

To the Tune of " A Game at Cards." 

[An ancient ballad, but clearly with fome modern interpolations, 
efpecially near the end. It is a fort of A4orality, or Moral-play, in the 
form of a fong, and the allufions to the ftage and to imperfonations 
upon it, fuch as Time, Confcience, Plain-dealing, Diffimulation, 
Youth, Age, &c. are obvious. Poor Robin figured afterwards very 
prominently in many popular produftions. To the title we have placed 
at the head, the following diftich is added : — 

" I know no reafon but this harmlefs riddle 
May as well be printed, as fung to a fiddle ;" 

and it was accordingly " Printed by J. Lock for J. Clark at the Harp 
and Bible in Weft Smith-field :" this certainly was not the earlieft im- 
preflion, though no older copy has yet come to light. The information 
regarding the tune, in a ftill more modern impreffion, is unufually 
minute : — " To a compleate Tune, well known to Mufitians and many 
others, or a game at Cards."] 

OW now, good fellow ! what, all amort .? 
I pray thee, tell me what is the news.^ — 
Trading is dead, and I am forry for't. 
Which makes me look worfe then I ufe. 
If a man hath no employment, whereby to get penny. 
He hath no enjoyment in that he wanteth money ; 
And charity is not ufed by many. 

Poor Robin's Dream. 


I have nothing to fpend, nor Ive nothing to lend ; 

Ive nothing to do, I tarry at home. 
Sitting in my chair, drawing near to the iirc, 

I fell into a fleep, like an idle drone ; 
And as I flept I fell into a dream: 
I faw a play a6led without er'e a theam. 
But I could not tell what the play did mean. 

But afterwards I did perceive, 

and fomething more I did underftand : 

The ftage was the world wherein we live, 
the adiors they were all mankind ; 

And when the play is ended the ftage down they fling. 

There will be no difference in this thing 

Between a Beggar and a King. 

The firft that a6led, I proteil:, 

was Time, with a glafs and a fithe in his hand. 
With the globe of the world upon his breaft, 

to fliew that he could the fame command. 
There's a time for to work, and a time for to play, 
A time for to borrow, and a time for to pay. 
And a time that doth call us all away. 

Confcience in order takes his place, 

and very gallantly plays his part : 
He fears not to fly in a rulers face, 

although it cuts him to the heart. 
He tells them all, this is the latter age. 


Poor Robin's Dream. 

Which put the actors in fuch a rage. 

That they kickt poor Confcience off the flage. 

Plain-deaHng prefently appears, 

in habit like a fimple man : 
The a(flors at him made mocks and jears, 

pointing their fingers as they ran. 
How came this fellow in our company ? 
Away with him ! many a gallant did cry. 
For Plain-dealing will a beggar dye. 

Diffimulation mounted the ffage; 

but he was cloathed in gallant attire : 
He was acquainted with Youth and Age ; 

many his company did deiire. 
They entertain'd him in their very breafl ; 
There he could have harbor, and quietly reft. 
For diffemblers and turn-coats fare the befl. 

Then cometh in poor Charity : 

methinks fhe looked wondrous old ; 

She quiver'd and fhe quak't moft piteoufly, 

it griev'd me to think fhe was grown fo cold. 

She had been in the city, and in the country, 

Amongfl the lawyers and nobility ; 

But there was no room for poor Charity. 

Then comes in Truth, well cloathed in wool, 

but like unto Youth in his white lawn fleeves. 
And fays, the land it is full, full, full. 

Poor Robin's Dream. 


too full of rebels worfe then theeves. 
The city's full of poverty, the French are full of pride, 
Fanaticks full of envy, which order can't abide ; 
And the ufurers bags are full belide. 

Hark, how Bellona's drums they do beat ! 

methinks it goes rattling through the town. 
Hark, how they thunder through the flreet, 

as though they would fhake the chimneys down ! 
Then comes in Mars, the great god of war. 
And bids us face about, and be as we were ; 
But when I awakt I fat in mv chair. 

I 2 

God fpeed the Plough, And 

blefs the Corn-mow. 

The Tune is, " I am the Duke of Norfolk." 

[This is the earlieft known impreflion of a ballad-dialogue, which to 
this day has been orally preferred in fome parts of the country : in Mr. 
J. H, Dixon's " Ancient Poems" &c, (printed for the Percy Societ}^) 
is one of thefe traditional yerfions, and another is given in Mr. Dayies 
Gilbert's " Chriilmas Carrols." Our copy is, like our other ballads, 
in black letter, but without any printer's name, fo that we have more 
imperfect means than ufual of fixing its date. The title — " God fpeed 
the Plow, and blefs the Corn-mow, a Didogue between the Hufband- 
man and Serving-man," — is followed by fix lines ftating the particular 
purpofe of the ballad, viz. to fhow the fuperiority of the life of the 
former to the latter. The tune mav ferve to prove the antiquit\' of 
the ballad, fmce it was, doubtlefs, derived from fome lyrical produc- 
tion on the execution of the Duke of Norfolk in 1572.] 

Y noble friends, give ear. 
If mirth you love to hear ; 

rie tell you, as fait as I can, 
A ftory very true : 
Then, mark what doth enfue, 
Concerning a Hufband-man. 

A Serving-man did meet 
A Hufband-man in the ftreet, 
and thus unto him. he began. 

God fpeed the Plough. 

-> T t 

I pray you, tell to me 
Of what calling you be, 

or if you be a Serving-man ? — 

Quoth he, my brother dear. 
The coail: I mean to clear, 

and the truth vou ihall underftand. 
I do no one difdain, 
But this I tell you plain, 

I am an honefh Hulband-man. 

If a Hufband-man you be, 
Then, come along with me ; 

rie help you, as foon as I can. 
Unto a gallant place. 
Where in a little fpace 

you fhall be a Serving-man. 

Sir, for your diligence 
I give you many thanks, 

then anfwered the Plowman again : 
I prav you, to me fhow 
Whereby that I might know, 

what pleafures hath a Serving-man. 

A Serving-man hath pleafure. 
Which palleth time and meafure, 

when the hawk on his hit doth ftand 

s s 


God fpeed the Plough. 


His hood and his verrils brave, 

And other things we have, 

which yields joy to a Serving-man. 

Hujband-man . 

My pleafure's more than that. 

To fee my oxen fat. 

and to profper well under my hand ; 

And therefore I do mean. 

With my horfe and team. 

to keep my felf a Hufband-man. 


O ! 'tis a gallant thing. 

In the prime time of the Spring, 

to hear the huntfman, now and than. 

His beaugle for to blow. 

And the hounds run all a row 

this is pleafure for a Serving-man, 

To hear the beagle cry. 

And to fee the faulcon fly. 

and the hare trip over the plain ; 

And the huntfman, and the hound 

Make hill and dale refound : 

this is pleafure for a Serving-man. 


'Tis pleafure, you do know. 

To fee the corn to grow. 

and to grow fo well on the land : 

God fpeed the Plough. 


The plowing and the fowing, 
The reaping and the mowing, 

yeelds pleafurc to the Hulhand-man. 

At our table you may eat 
All forts of dainty meat. 

Pig, cony, goofe, capon and fwan ; 
And with lords, and ladies fine, 
You may drink beer, ale, and wine : • 

this is pleafure for a Serving-man. 

While you eat goofe and capon, 
rie feed on beefe and bacon, 

and a piece of hard cheefe now and than: 
We pudding have, and foufe. 
Always ready in the houfe ; 

which contents the honeft Hufband-man. 

At the Court you may have 
Your garments fine and brave, 

and cloak with gold lace layd upon ; 
A fhirt as white as milk, 
And wrought with linefl filk : 

that's pleafure for a Serving-man. 

Such proud and coflly gear ♦ 
Is not for us to wear 


God fpeed the Plough. 

amongft the bryers, and brambles many one; 
A good flrong ruflet coat. 
And at your need a groat, 

will fuffice for the Hulband-man. 

A proverb here I tell. 
Which likes my humour well, 

and remember it well I can : 
If a Courtier be too bold, 
He'l want when he is old : 

then, farewell to the Serving-man. 

It needs muft be confeft. 
That your calling is the beft : 

no longer difcourfe with you I can ; 
But henceforth I will pray. 
By night and by day. 

Heavens blefs the honeft Hulband-man ! 



Merry Man's Refolution. 

To a gallant new Tune^ called " The Highlander's new Rant." 

[The initials L. P., at the end of this producSlion, fhew that it was 
by Lawrence Price, of whom we have before fpolcen : it contains a 
fingular enumeration of the queftionable localities of London, not very- 
long before the Reftoration. It was " Printed for Francis Grove, on 
Snow Hill," and the full title is this :— " The Merry Man's Refolu- 
tion, or his laft farewel to his former acquaintance, 

" Declaring how he rambled up and down 
Through all the Suburbs of fair London Town, 
Where pretty wenches he did plenty find. 
But fome of them agreed not with his mind ; 
Till, at the laft, by chance he found out one 
Which pleafed him beft, fo left the reft alone : 
To her he then dinged clofe, as I heard tell, 
Made her his mate, and bid the reft farewell."] 

OW, farewel to Saint Gileles 
that ftandeth in the fields. 
And farewel to Turnbul ftreet, 
for that no comfort yields : 
Farewel unto the Grey-hound, 

and farewel to the Bell, 
And farewel to my land-lady, 
whom I do love fo well. 

3 1 8 The Merry Man's Refolution. 

With a come Love, 
Stay Love, 
go not from me ; 
For all the world He forfake for thee. 

Farewel to Long-Acre 

that ftands near the Mews, 
And farewel to Drury Lane 

where pretty wenches ufe ; 
And farewel unto Sodom, 

and all her painted drabs. 
And farewel unto Bloomfbury, 

and all their vapouring fcabs : 
And come Love, 
Stay Love, 

go not from me ; 
For all the world He forfake for thee. 

Farewel to CrolTe-lane, 

where lives fome babes of graces ; 
Farewel to Common-garden, 

and all her wanton places : 
Farewel unto Weftminfter, 

and farewel to the Strand, 
Where I had choice of Moplies 

ever at my own command. 
Sing, come Love, 
Stay Love, 

The Merry Man's Refolution 

go along with me ; 
For all the world He forlake for thee. 

Farewel to the Bank-fide, 

farewel to Blackmans-flreet, 
Where with my bouncing lafies 

I oftentimes did meet : 
Farewel to Kent-ftreet garrifon, 

farewel to Horfly-down, 
And all the fmirking wenches 

that dwell in Redriff town. 
And come Love, 
Stay Love, 

go along with me ; 
For all the world He forfake for thee. 


Now farewel unto Wapping, 

and farewel to Black-wall : 
Farewel to Ratclife High-way, 

Rofemary-lane and all : 
And farewel unto Shore-ditch, 

and More-fields eke alfo. 
Where mobs to pick up callies 

a night walking do go. 

Then, come Love, 
Stay Love, 

go along with me ; 
For all the world He forfake for thee, 


The Merry Man's Refolution. 

In White-crofTe-ftreet, and Golden-lane, 

do ftraping laiTes dwell, 

And Co there do in every ftreet 

twixt that and Clarken-well : 

At Cow-crofTe and Smith-field 

I have much pleafure found. 

Where wenches, like to Fayeries, 

did often trace the round. 

Yet, come Love, 

Stay Love, 

go not from me ; 

For all thofe girls He forfake for thee. 

Yet fomething more He fpeak off. 

which feems to many ftrange ; 

There's ftore of pretty wenches 

live neere to the Exchange : 

And many more there are, fure. 

that dwelleth in Cheap-fide, 

And other ftreets in London, 

which are both broad and wide. 

Yet, come Love, 

Stay Love, 


go not from me ; 

For all thofe girles He forfake for thee. 

To all the country Mopfies, 

wherever they do dwell. 

The Merry Man's Refolution. 


In this my laft conclufion 

I likewife bid farewel : 
Though they were ufed, in former time, 

to come when I did call, 
I take thee for the boldefl, 

and beft among them all. 
Then, come Love, 
Stay Love, 

go not from me ; 
For all the world lie forfake for thee. 

At Briftol and at Glocefter 

I had of loves great llore, 
But now I find enough of thee ; 

I will delire no more : 
And what I have faid to thee 

thou flialt find true and right ; 
lie doe thee trufty fervice 

at morning and at night. 

Then, come Love, 
Stay Love, 

go not from me ; 
For all the world He forfake for thee. 

Farewel unto black patches, 
and farewel powdered locks. 

And farewel Luthner's ladies, 
for they are full of mocks. 

T T 


The Merry Man's Refolution. 

Farewel the Cherry-garden, 

for evermore adue ; 
And farewel to Spur-Alley, 
and all that wanton crew. 
And, come Love, 
Stay Love, 
go not from me ; 
For all thofe girles He forfake for thee. 

L. P. 


Well matched at laft. 

To the Tune of " I know what I know." 

[This comic ballad was certainly pofterior to another in our collec- 
tion, (p. 97.) becaufe the name of the tune to which it was fung was 
derived from " Few Words are heft," the burden of which is " I know 
what I know." What follows was " Printed at London, for J. 
Wright, junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Bailey," as 
ufual, without date; and it was called, "A pleafant new Ditty, intituled 

Though rich golden Booties your luck was to catch, 
Your laft was the beft, caufe you met with your match." 

Several modern fongs have been written in imitation of it, but we 
have never feen it reprinted, unlefs the old copy, which we have em- 
ployed, were itfelf a reprint.] 

RICH wealthy batchelour, thirty and odde. 
Had now a new crotchet crept Into his 
pate : 

A wife he muft have, what-foever betide, 
And well linde with rubbidi to inrich his ftate. 

Faire maidens were offer'd him, two, three and four. 
Sufficient men's daughters, with money to boote. 
Yet his greedy mind did Rill gape after more. 
For he fiid, 'twas too little for him to go to'te. 


Well Matched at laft. 

His meanes did afford him three hundred a yeere. 
And three bonny laffes had thoufands apeece ; 
Yet for it, and them, hee a pin did not care. 
Though one of them was to a gentleman neece. 

Shall I for a paltery poore thoufand pound 
A young wench goe marry with nothing but breed, 
Confume me in longings, in fafhions and toyes ? 
No ; yet it is time, and I now v/ill take heed. 

There is a brifk widdow, that dwelleth hard by. 
In money hath ten thoufand pounds at the leaft : 
He fpruce my felfe up, then, incontinently. 
And to her He goe as a fliutering gueft. 

This batchelour foone did attaine his defire ; 
The day was appointed when they fhould be wed. 
His youthfull faire bride was but threefcore and ten. 
For fhee had but a tooth and a halfe in her head. 

Some three or foure yeares did this bonny laffe live. 
Then grim goodman Death tooke her life cleane away; 
And griefe for her loffe had the man almoft fped. 
But that a new widdow his journey did flay. 

His wife being buried, next morning he went 
Another fpruce widdow agen for to fee. 
Where mounted on crutches he ftraight one efpide : 
Who in ftate of riches was better than fliee ? 

His mother's fmocke fure did this widdower weare. 
For no fooner woo'd, but he prefenly fped : 

Well Matched at lalL 


A licence he fetcht, and he marri'd her ftraight ; 
Then flie threw downe her ftihs, and fhe hobbl'd to bed. 

Not full ten yeeres older then was his lall: wife 
Was this fame dryd mummey that lay by his fide : 
With fnorting and grunting flie air'd fo the bed. 
That never had groome fuch a night with a bride. 

But ftill did her money perfume all againe. 
And in a moneth after flie bed-rid did lye : 
Seven winters and fummers flie lay at fmall eafe. 
And then flie departed, becaufe flie muft dye. 

Five hundred a yeere ilie augmented his ftate ; 
Ten thoufand pound cleare by the other he got : 
Meane time of another fpruce widdow he heard, 
Then he praid unto Jove that Ihe might be his lot. 

This widdow feem'd not above fifty at moft. 

So fpruce and fo neat was her carkas bedreft ; 

She wanted no meanes for to fet her to fale. 

They lik't, and were marri'd : now, marke well the reft. 

She feem'd fo compleate and fo comely of fliape. 
That he doted on her more than on both the reft. 
She faid then, fweet hufband, be not you difmaid. 
For the truth muft be knowne when you fee me undrcft. 

Two rowes of white teeth llie tocke out of her mouth, 
And put 'em ftraight into a little round boxe ; 
A glafte eye likewife ftie pull'd out of her head. 
Which made the man feare that his wife hadgotknocks. 


Well Matched at laft. 

Her pouldred curld locks, that fo faire did appeare. 
Came off with more eafe than a new fcalded pigge. 
I wonder her hufband could laughing forbeare. 
When he faw his wife looke like an oftridge's egge. 

Then, ftraightway downftooped this comely fweet bride, 
Unlac't, and ungirded her neat woodden legge : 
The bridegroome was like to runne out of his wits. 
For his eyes ne'er before did behold fuch a hagge. 

Then, for to revive him, unto him fhe flung 
Her keyes, that did lead him to treafure great ftore : 
This made him to love her, fo both went to bed. 
Where he did imbrace her: what would you have more? 

Such luck had this hufband to tumble them o're. 
That ere one moneth ended fhe changed her life. 
A rich wealthy mifer invited him home. 
And faid, if you pleafe, fir. He fhow you a wife. 

He fhow'd him his daughter, a girle of fifteene. 
But fhe would no liking nor favour him fhow : 
Her friends made the match, and they marri'd with fpeed ; 
But fhe ne'r endur'd him, I tell you but fo. 

This young marri'd wife to fuch cunning was grown. 
That file fell a longing his coine for to wafle : 
French kickfhaws of ten pound a difh flie would have. 
With other dear meats for to fit her fine tafte. 

No phyfick, no do6lors, no cofl did fhe fpare ; 
On pride and new fangles fhe fet her delight : 

Well Matched at laft. 


Her hufband began for to ilivoiir of feare. 

And to vvidi that (lie ne'r had beene fcene In his flight. 

No love, nor no liking, this young wife e're had, 
Becaufe ilie was forc't to be wed to her hate. 
He fickned and dyde, and was laid in his grave ; 
So fhe did enjoy his three widdowes eftate. 

A young man, that firlt was this maiden's true love. 
With all expedition they made their difpatch : 
For wedding and bedding they both were agreed. 
And the threewidows hufband did meet with his match. 


Death's uncontrolable Summons. 

To the Tune of " My bleeding Heart," 

[This ballad is, moft likely, one of the oldeft in our collection, and 
the burden of it is the fame as that to a " Roundelay " in " England's 
Helicon," 1600, 4to. Sign. D. 2. When it was firft printed we have 
no means of afcertaining, and the tune to which it was fung was not 
a common one. The fubjeft is very old, and has been treated in a 
variety of ways, to one or more of which a fimilar title was given. 
The reprefentation of Death as an old man, and not, according to the 
vulgar notion, an unfightly (keleton, deferves remark. Our original was 
publifhed after the Reftoration " for P. Brookfby, at the Golden Ball 
in Pye Corner," under the following title : — " Death's uncontrollable 
Summons, or the Mortality of Mankind. Being a Dialogue between 
Death and a Young-man."] 

'N flumber and fleep my fenfes fall, 
hey ho, hey ho ! then flept I : 
% The bright fun rais'd a mifl withal, 
eclipfed in the darkfome fky. 

An ancient Father ftood by me, 

hey ho, hey ho ! hollow eyes ; 
A foul deformed wight was he : 

I thought my youth did him defpife. 

His cloak was green, his head was gray, 

hey ho, hey ho ! iilver hair ; 
His face was pale as any clay, 

his countenance made me much to fear. 

Death's uncontrolable Summons. 

Amazed at the fudden fight ; 

hey ho, hey ho ! youthful boy : 
I flood as one amazed quite ; 

hey ho, hey ho ! difinal day. 

Father, quoth I, tell me your name, 

hey ho, hey ho ! tell me true ; 
I pray you tell to me the fame : 

my joynts do tremble at thy view. — 

Youth, youth, quoth he, I tell to thee, 
hey ho, hey ho ! thy thred is fpun : 

My name is Death, I come for thee, 
hey ho, hey ho ! thy glafs is run. — 

For me, fweet Death ? I hope not fo ; 

hey ho, hey ho ! I am young : 
Let me be old before I go ; 

alas ! my time hath not been long. 

I have this worldly wealth at will, 
hey ho, hey ho ! afk and have ; 

Let me enjoy thofe pleafures ftill : 
oh ! my foul abhors the grave. — 

I fcorn thy treafure and thy pelf; 

hey ho, hey ho ! hafte away : 
Thy goods fhall perifh with thy felf ; 

'tis not thy wealth my ftroak fliall ftay. — 

Oh Death ! what will my true love fay ? 
hey ho, hey ho ! fhee'l complain 


u u 

Death's uncontrolable Summons. 

On thee for taking me away : 

fweet Death, with her let me remain. — 

I tell thee yet thou ftriveft in vain ; 

hey ho, hey ho ! go, 'tis time. 
Thy vital thread is cut in twain : 

oh ! hark and hear the dulfome chyme. — 

Then, woe is me ! I muft be gone, 

hey ho, hey ho ! heavy heart : 
My world's delight and all is done ; 

Was never man fo loath to part. 

Mark well my fall, you youthful buds. 
Hey ho, hey ho ! view my fall : 

My pleafures, plenty, life and goods ; 
hey ho, hey ho ! Death ends all. 




Page 3, line 21. 

*' 1 bring to you Saint Giles his bowle." 

HIS line refers to the old cuftom of prefenting criminals, 
on their way to Tyburn, with a cup of water, at or near 
7>»^r^\Q the Church of St. Giles in the Fields. It is alluded toby 
•'^^*'^^ feveral writers, and among them by Thomas Churchyard, 
in his " Mirror of Man," 1594, 4to. 

" Trufting in friendftiip makes fome be truft up, 
Or ride in a cart to kis Saint Giles his cup." 

Page 12, line i. 

'' Chriftmas Lamentation." 

In the Pepvfian Collection is an anfwer to this ballad, under the 
title of " Old Chriftmas return'd, or Hofpitality revived/' &c. It was 
" Printed for P. Brookfby." 

Page 14, line 24. 

" Madam, forfooth, in her coach muft wheele." 

Stephen GofTon, in his " Quippes for upftart new-fangled Gentle- 
women," 1596, 4to, thus alludes to the then ordinary ufe of coaches : 

** To Carrie all this pelfc and trafh, 
becaufe their bodies are unfit, 
Our wantons now in coaches dafh 

from houfe to houfe, from ftreet to ftreet. 
Were they of ftate, or were they lame. 
To ride in coach they need not fhame." 

See alfo p. 52 and 291 of this volume. 



Page 26, 

line I. 

" Ragged and Torne and True." 

This ballad was fo popular, that afterwards others were compofed " to 
the tune of Ragged and Torne and True :" one, called " Knavery in 
all Trades," was written by Martin Parker, and printed for F. Grove. 

Page 27, line I. 

" He be no knight of the poft." 

Knights of the poft were thofe who for money confented to take 
falfe oaths : they are mentioned by moft of the comic writers of the 
time, but, as far as we recolledl:, it nowhere appears why they were 
called knights of the poft : perhaps it was becaufe they flood at a poft, 
ready to fwear anything when called upon. 

Page 29, line 20. 

" And fays, " Gramercy horfe." 

For the fuppofed origin of the expreflion " Gramercy horfe," and 
" God 'a mercy horfe," fee " Tarlton's Jefts," printed by the Shake- 
fpeare Society, p. 23. The faying is however older than the time of 
Tarlton, though it is there imputed to him. 

Page 35, line 21. 
" Nor that mad fpirit Robin, 

that plagues both wife and maid." 

The reafon why we ftate, in the introdu61:ion to this ballad, " that 
'The Mad Pranks' of Robin Goodfellow had been printed before 
1588" is, that they are clearly alluded to in Tarlton's "News out 
of Purgatory," which, though without date, muft have been publifhed 
juft after his death in Sept. 1588. 

Page 49, line 26. 

" While Mock-beggar Hall fhands empty." 

On the word "Mockbeggar" Mr. Halliwell inferts the following, 
in his " Didlionary of Archaic and Provincial Words." " Forby has, 
Mockbeggar-hall, a houfe looking well outfide, but having a poor in- 
terior. There is a houfe fo called at Claydon." 


J J) 


Page 51, line i. 

*' Their prodigal Tons have fold for gilt." 

i.e. for gelt A. S. money. Our old writers punned upon the word, 
as in Middleton's " Family of Love," where Dryfat fays " Ay, 
marry, there fpolce an angel : gilt's current, indeed." Dyce's M'uUlU- 
tons JVorks^ ii. 197. 

Page 80, line 8. 

A mifprint is here imputed by miftake : " made hhn tremble" is 
correct, the ballad-writer having refumed the third perfon and the nar- 
rative form. 

Page 91, line 20. 

" The lifefome monthes of May and June." 

For " lifefome" read lifefome. 

Page 104, line 11. 

It ought to have been here added, that the broadfide has no printer's 
name nor date : perhaps they have been accidentally cut off. We 
might fuppofe from the title, that Day's play, " The Fair Maid of 
Briftow," 1605, was founded on this ballad ; but fuch is not the fa6t, 
although it is probable that the fhriking incidents of it were dramatized 
at the time. 

Page 135, line 11. 

" In the pofleffion of Lord Francis Egerton." 

Since this was printed Lord Francis Egerton has been raifed to the 
peerage by the tide of Earl of Ellefmere. 

Page 135, line 12. 

It is ufually faid that John Heywood was born at North Mims, but 
the only authority for this ftatement is Peacham's " Complete Gen- 
tleman," and all he aflerts is, that Heywood had property there. On 
the other hand, Bale informs us that he was civis Londinenfis^ but not 
that he was born there ; and the h^^ as we have mentioned, feems 
to be that he was born in Kent, probably at Canterbury, 

Page 135, line 21. 

" Nor need I fing this fong untill." 

The meaning of this line is " Nor need I fing this fong unto them : " 
the Scotch ftill ufe " until " for unto. 



Page 138, line 3. 

" The happy man's without a fhirt." 

Alluding to the old Italian novel of the fearch after a perfeilly 
happy man : the only happy man found in the world had no fhirt to 
his back. It has been verfified by Cafti, Nov. II. 

Page 148, line 13. 

" Nothing in all the world be iinde." 

For " be " read we. 

Page 157, line 18; 

" And here hangs pictures two or three." 

The "pidlures" here alluded to -wcYeJiatues of kings and queens. 
At that time (as various inftances might eftablifh) the words " piiture" 
and "ftatue" were ufed indifferently: many ftatues were then both 
ftatues and pictures, being painted to imitate life. 

Page 163, line i. 

" Conftance of Cleveland." 

There is a copy of this ballad in the Pepyfian Colledlion, " Printed 
at London for J. Wright." 

Page 173, line 5. 

" The Monmouth Cap, the faylors thrum." 

Monmouth caps are mentioned by Shakefpeare and by many other 
writers of his time. In a note in Collier's Shakefpeare, iv. 552, it is 
faid that " they were worn both by foldiers and failors," and our ballad 
affords proof of it : in this line it is called "the faylors thrum," and 
in the next flanza but one we have " The fouldiers that the Mon- 
mouth wear." 

Page 173, line 18. 

" The perriwig, the Cap of late." 

Barnaby Rich, in 158 1, fpeaks of " perriw^igs" having then come 
into faftiion : fee his " Farevi^ell to Military Profeffion," (reprinted for 
the Shakefpeare Society) in what he calls the " Conclufion." The 
fame point may be eftabliflied from Philip Stubbes' "Anatomy of 
Abufes," 1583, and many other authorities. 



Page 178, line 24. 

" The Butterboxes potion." 

Butterbox was a common nick-name for a Dutchman, in reference 
to one chief product: of his country. 

Page 180, line 25. 
" And gorrill'd guts will quarrel." 
See Collier's Shakefpcare, iv. 255, n. 8. 

Page 185, line 7. 

" Our knockers make no noife." 

We ought perhaps to read knackers for " knockers." See a fong in 
Middleton's " Spanifh Gipfey," (edit. Dyce, iv. 146.) in the meafure 
of this ballad, and doubtlefs to the fame tune. 

Page 207, line 28. 

" In London all the yeare." 

A highly curious enumeration in verfe of the principal Cries of Lon- 
don is given in T. Heywood's " Rape of Lucrece," 1608, where, as 
was ufual with our old dramatifis, the manners of the metropolis of 
England are imputed to Rome. Several of the Cries are identical with 
thofe in our ballad. 

Page 208, line 9. 

^' Anye welflet oyfters." 

" Welflet oyfters " may be a mifprint for Wainfleet oyfters. 

Page 208, line 13. 

^' For why, the are but Kentifh." 

The letter y has dropped out in this line, which ought to run, " For 
why, they are but Kentilh." 

Page 213, line 2. 

" With nimming of a fee." 

It is fcarcely neceftary to fay that to nim is to fnatch or take nimbly; 
from the A. S. nhnan : in modern German it is nehmen. 

X X 



Page 227, line 16, 
For " fecond ftanza" read third ftanza. 

P^ge 259, line 4. 
" Old Flatcap is laid in his grave." 
Flatcap was of old not an unufual derifive defignation for a citizen, 
as in the well-known paffage from Ben Jonfon's " Every Man in his 
Humour," A6\. ii. Sc. i. 

— — — " mock me all over. 
From my flatcap unto my Ihining fhoes." 

On page 2 1 1 we have already had a moft appofite illuftration of the 
laft part of the quotation. 

Page 264, line 3. 

This tune fliould feem, from the correfponding meafure of the two 
ballads, to be the fame as " To drive the cold winter away." 

Page 269, line 17. 

" Where I fung Lachrima." 

Lachrymcs^ here called Lachryma for the fake of the rhime, was a 
very celebrated old tune, mentioned by Maflinger and many other 
authors : from its chara6ter it is generally termed " the doleful tune of 

Page 272, line 4. 

" And bidden beware of the cut-purfe To bold." 

Purfes v/ere formerly worn fufpended at the girdle, and could eafily 
be cut away : hence, perhaps, the origin of the term " cut-purfe," the 
modern equivalent of which is " pick-pocket." 

Page 279, line 14. 

'' For ftill in debt and danger." 

A debtor was formerly faid to be " within the danger " of his cre- 
ditor, (" Merchant of Venice," A61 iv. Sc. i.) and hence the proverb 
" Out of debt out of dansfer." 



Page 280, line 4. 

" Then, pafle thou not a pin."' 

The phrafe " pafs thou not a pin," is equivalent to " care thou not a 
pin." Shakefpeare, 2 Henry VI. Acl iv. Sc. 2, has " pafs not " for care 
not ; and in the fame place in the older play of the " Contention," the 
precife words "pais not a pin " occur. Collier's Shakefpeare, v. 189. 

Page 284, line 12. 
" To cry, ^ What doe you lacke.' " 

Shopkeepers and their 'prentices in former times flood at their doors 
inquiring of palTengers " What do you lack ? " They are often ridi- 
culed by thefe terms. 

Page 289, line 18. 

*' Thus fortune hath him cod."' 

For " coil " read crojL 

Page 292, line 20. 

" Of poore Carry-coales." 

Referring to the proverbial expreffion, made familiar to all ears 
by the firft fcene of" Romeo and Juliet." 

Page 295, line 20. 

" That are as right's leg." 

This line no doubt ought to run, " that are as right as his leg." 

Page 309, line 12. 

" And when the play is ended, the ftage down they fling." 

Alluding to the temporary ftages, in early times erecEled in inn-yards, 
at fairs, &c. which were removed, or flung down, as foon as the per- 
formance was at an end. 

Page 314, line i. 

*' His hood and his verrils brave." 

Poflibly here we ought to read terrils or terrials, as in T. Heywood's 
" Woman killed with Kindnefs :" 

" The terrials of her less were ftain'd with blood." 



Page 314, line 16. 

" And the hounds run all a row." 

A colon fhould have been placed at the end of this line. 

Page SiS.line 15. 
" We puddings have and foufe." 
" Soufe " fometimes feems to be ufed for any kind of pickled meat, 
but ftridlly it means the pickled ears of fwine. See Dyce's Beaumont 
and Fletcher, vii. 125, and viii. 216. 

Page 315, line 23. 

" And wrought with fineft filk." 

Philip Stubbes, in the 2nd. edit, of his " Anatomy of Abufes," 
8vo. 1583, ftates that in his time thefe Ihirts fometimes coft 5/. or even 
10/. each. fo. 23. b. This paffage, like many other curious additions, 
is not in the firft impreffion printed in the fame year. 

Page 319, line 23. 
"Where mobs to pick up callies." 
For " callies " we ought doubtlefs to read cullies. 

Page 324, line 12. 

" And to her He go as a fhutering gueft." 

The words " fute " and " fuitor " feem of old to have often been 
pronounced y?)«/<? ^ndi Jhuter ; and Shakefpeare in " Love's Labours 
Loft," A(5l iv. Sc. I. founds a pun upon the circumftance. Drayton, 
in his " Idea, the Shepheard's Garland," 1593, has 

" Though 'Envy fute her feven-times poyfned dartes j " 
and Stubbes calls Shooter's Hill Suters Hill. 






SEP 12 194 
KB I 7 1948 

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JUN 29 «tt 

DEC 5 1956 

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